


Terms of Service

by Psythe



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Anal Sex, Eldritch Horrors, Erotic Horror, F/F, Humanstuck, Hypnotism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mind Control, Multi, Tentacle Bondage, Tentacles, Vaginal Sex, cosmic horror, kanaya has a lamprey mouth, nonconsensual drugging, rose and kanaya are eldritch goddesses and vriska doesnt read things closely enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 06:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15406701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psythe/pseuds/Psythe
Summary: AG: Damn. This file has to 8e huge. It went insanely quick. How do they do that?TT: Black magic.





	Terms of Service

**Author's Note:**

  * For [auxanges](https://archiveofourown.org/users/auxanges/gifts).



FUTURE grimAuxiliatrix [FGA] 13 HOURS FROM NOW responded to memo.

FGA: Well I Think That Went Well

CURRENT tentacleTherapist [TT] RIGHT NOW responded to memo.

TT: Good to know.

TT: You know I can’t refuse you anything, my dear.

FGA: You Do Go To Extensive Lengths For Me It Must Be Said

FGA: It Would Be Remiss Of Me Not To Maintain Some Perspective And Show My Appreciation

TT: If you know what I mean?

TT: (Imagine that I’m quirking my eyebrow suggestively.)

FGA: I Can Imagine It Quite Vividly

FGA: Considering That I Have Just Witnessed You Doing It Repeatedly In Person

TT: If you know what I mean.

FGA: You Are Incorrigible

TT: Keep using words with more than four syllables. It inflames my feminine passions.

CURRENT arachnidsGrip [AG] RIGHT NOW responded to memo.

AG: Oh my godddddddd.

AG: Can you two stop for like five seconds?

CURRENT grimAuxiliatrix RIGHT NOW responded to memo.

GA: Dont You Mean Like Eight Seconds

AG: You’re hilarious.

AG: So funny!

AG: I can’t 8reathe 8ecause of how fucking funny you are.

TT: You’re going to have to be more specific.

TT: There are a lot of activities in which we regularly engage that you might be asking us to stop.

TT: Communicating via text message, for instance.

TT: Making you laugh.

TT: Playing immersive simulations.

GA: Breathing

AG: Uggggggggh.

AG: Will you two stop 8roadcasting to the whole stupid world that you’re d8ing and 8eing all lovey-dovey literally every second of every day? You never shut up a8out it and no8ody cares!!!!!!!!

AG: We’re here to play games!

AG: And you can’t even do THAT right.

AG: That crawl was soooooooo easy!!!!!!!!

AG: I expected 8etter from you, frankly.

GA: Youre Awfully Liberal With Your Condemnations

GA: You Scatter Them Around Like Particularly Weak Seasoning That You Have To Pour Half The Shaker Of In Order To Taste

GA: Or Maybe It’s Just Seasoning That You Really Really Like

GA: Im Not Sure Which Is More Appropriate

FUTURE tentacleTherapist [FTT] 339 HOURS FROM NOW responded to memo.

FTT: It’s a mixture of both, I think.

FTT: Her material is extremely weak. But she also really, really enjoys it.

FTT: I’m happy for her. Let her follow her bliss, that’s what I say.

AG: Oh, shut up, TT.

AG: You just don’t want to admit that I’m right.

AG: Has anyone ever told you that you use the internet as a crutch?

AG: You’d never say any of this to my face.

AG: And oh my god this chat client you made me download SUCKS!

AG: It keeps glitching and doing all this future-past horsecrap and I’m sick of it!

GA: I Apologize

GA: As We Told You Previously TT And I Have Some Technical Difficulties Connecting To The Internet

GA: This Client Is The Only Thing Weve Found Thus Far That Circumvents Them

AG: Uuuuuuuugh.

TT: Oh, stop.

TT: If you had anyone else worth your time to cloud for you you’d have left already.

AG: Yeah, well, I’m 8ecoming steadily less convinced of that.

AG: Your last few crawls have been pretty decent, 8ut this one was just pathetic.

GA: I Thought For Sure Youd Be Impressed By The Kaleidoscope Serpents

AG: Oh, they were sort of a cool design choice.

AG: 8ut you don’t need to 8other with any of that complic8ed shifting de8uff creature type stuff. I just glitched them on the stairs down to the temple floor and 8lew them all up 30 meters away from me.

AG: How long did it take you to make those? 8ig waste of effort.

TT: No joy from the mimic pretending to be a hunter’s bone inside the chest that was also a mimic?

AG: Oh, was that a thing?

AG: I wouldn’t know. Only idiots waste time opening chests that are pro8a8ly traps or mimics.

AG: I do every crawl with drops only.

PAST grimAuxiliatrix [PGA] 25 HOURS AGO responded to memo.

PGA: What About The Several Individual Flagstones In The Room Containing The Chest That Were Also Mimics

TT: We ended up taking that out.

PGA: Oh

PGA: Right

AG: Ugh.

AG: Lame.

AG: Lame lameity lame!!!!!!!!

AG: I really did think you guys were going to 8e where I found a real challenge on here, 8ut I guess that was my dum8 mistake.

TT: The only one you’ve ever made in your entire existence, presumably.

GA: Do Try To Be Civil

GA: Not That I Necessarily Disagree With TT But If We Cannot Maintain At Least A Flimsy Veneer Of Politeness I Think That This May Be A Genuine Waste Of Time

GA: Rather Than A Hyperbolic One That AG Is Blowing Out Of Proportion In Order To Throw Shade On Our Combined Intelligence

AG: Hey!

GA: As The Great Man Said

GA: “I Calls Them Like I Sees Them”

TT: I love you, dear.

TT: But, fair enough.

TT: I do hope we can prove equal to your exacting tastes eventually.

TT: You’re one of the only client players we’ve had who applies any degree of actual problem-solving to the game.

AG: Ha! Yeah. The rest of the player8ase is a 8unch of losers.

AG: I tried clouding for a while 8ut everyone I got to play just whined and whined a8out how “mean” my level design was.

AG: Wimps.

AG: The or8 of annihil8ion in the statue's mouth is a classic! It’s not my fault no8ody knows their gaming history.

TT: The study of history is dying, I’m afraid.

TT: As are so many things.

TT: Wordsmithing.

TT: Music.

TT: Craftsmanship.

TT: Innocence.

TT: The world.

TT: Stars.

TT: The universe.

TT: Humans, eventually, in the end.

TT: Papercraft.

TT: Good coffee.

TT: Anyway.

AG: Okaaaaaaaay...

AG: I was going to say that you aren’t the worst clouder I’ve ever had, 8ut no, actually, I’m not going to.

AG: This has 8een sort of fun and everything 8ut I think I’m just going to 8ail.

AG: If this is the quality of your crawls it’s not enough for me to put up with this dum8 chat client and your weird goth 8ullshit.

TT: Oh, that’s hardly necessary.

TT: You’ve made your point.

TT: If you want us to take the kid gloves off with you, that can be arranged.

TT: That is what you want, right?

AG: Uh, yeah????????

AG: I’m 8ored!!!!!!!!

AG: I haven’t had a game to play that was actually interesting in forever!

AG: All the big studios make everything too stupid and easy for the assholes out there who don’t know which side of the controller goes up and I’m sick of it!!!!!!!!

AG: Do you have 8etter content and you’ve 8een holding out on me?

TT: Well.

TT: Yes.

GA: You Should Know Better Than Anyone How Difficult It Is To Find Partners That Are Worth Ones Time

GA: We Like To Take It Slow And Make Sure That Someone Will Be Able To Appreciate Our Best Efforts Before We Invest Very Much In Them

TT: Especially considering this ridiculous era of walkthroughs and wikis that we live in. The moment one person manages to clear one of our really serious crawls, every one of its secrets will be up on the internet for every Porthos, Athos and Aramis to plunder, and we’ll have to start all over.

AG: You’re talking a 8ig game, TT.

AG: It sounds to me like your mouth’s writing checks your ass can’t cash.

GA: If You Were Not Exceptional We Would Not Have Stayed In Contact With You As Long As We Have

GA: I Very Much Hope That We Will Have A Long And Satisfying Relationship

GA: Is That Something That You Want AG

AG: Yes! Sure! Whatever!!!!!!!!

AG: Get to the point already!

TT: The point will be appearing in the forward viewport momentarily.  
  


You roll your eyes. Where do these two get off, anyway? Talking about you having to Prove Yourself Worthy, like there’s some kind of vetting process to be allowed the Amazing Honor of playing their custom campaigns. (Their crawls are pretty good, you admit, privately, but you’d never say it aloud to them, especially not TT. God, they’re so fucking smug. She’s a decent clouder, but she’s never going to make really _great_ campaigns until she stops screwing around with Thematic Resonance and Narrative Parallels and just devotes her energy to _destroying_ the players. You know she’s got it in her, she just has to let it off the leash.)  
  


FUTURE tentacleTherapist !͏̶*̶̡^̷͜͞͡≮͡҉͢   HOURS FROM NOW responded to memo.

FTT attached a file!

Accept transfer of file **S̴GAT͢E.ȩx̧e**?  
  


Ugh. More of this stupid chat client crap. Where do GA and TT even _live_ that something this obviously broken and unsupported is the only thing they can get to work on their computers? Are they from Mongolia, or Uzbekistan, or, like, Alabama, or something?  
  


AG: Uggggggggh.

AG: Now even your dum8 glitches have glitches?

FTT: Sometimes.

FTT: It’s a translation error, I’m pretty sure.

AG: Transl8ion from what?

AG: Does this janky chat client that’s apparently the only thing that runs on whatever weird 8ackwards Linux OSes you two are running only work in Latvian or something?

FTT: Something like that.

AG: What is this game, anyway? I’ve never heard of it.

FTT: It’s not a game, precisely. It’s a creative environment. A game engine, for lack of a better term.

FTT: It allows for unprecedented creative flexibility.

AG: Oh my godddddddd you could have just said that.

TT: Considering your absolute determination to ignore the spirit of the dungeon crawl experience and interact with the environment in bad faith, we’re going to need a more advanced toolset in order to challenge you.

AG: Fuck off.

AG: The only thing that matters is winning and you know it.

AG: And I don’t cheat! I just use everything in the game’s code as it’s given to me.

TT: I never accused you of cheating.

TT: Goodness. Hit a sore spot.

AG: Shut up.

GA: Download The File AG

GA: Trust Me

GA: You Will Enjoy The Connections It Makes Possible  
  


Ugh. They’re so _dramatic._ Fine, whatever. You click ‘Accept’.

The file transfer screen pops up, and _whoa,_ it’s like a third of the way done already! If this is some kind of game development environment or set of drivers to let your computer run things made on that engine it has to be a _really_ big file. But, shit, it’s only going to take like thirty seconds! Maybe these two really do have access to some cool software. You’re going to have to ask where they got it.  
  


AG: Wow, holy shit. It transfers REALLY fast.

TT: This client has some advantages. That’s one of them.

AG: Damn. This file has to 8e huge. It went insanely quick. How do they do that?

TT: Black magic.  
  


You snort. Fucking TT.

Still, this is pretty impressive. You double-click on the .exe.

It cycles through a bunch of preliminary windows (there’s no title in the loading screens, just a logo of some kind of spinning mesh of interlocking circles and spirals). You click “ok” a bunch of time, then the EULA comes up, uggggggggh. You hit ‘accept’ on that too. You hate these things, why do they even bother including them? It’s not like anyone actually reads them. It just wastes everyone’s time.

 _Now_ it starts installing. (God.) Words start flashing past too fast for you to see. You haven’t seen an installer that puts the names of the files on the screen in ages. A loading bar starts to fill. This one isn’t as fast.  
  


AG: Heck of an install.

GA: Its Very Advanced Software

GA: Some Might Call It Futuristic

AG: Who gave you guys the hookup?

GA: Oh

GA: No One

GA: It Is Primarily TT’s Creation

AG: What????????

AG: No fucking way.

AG: Someone who could code like this would make 8etter dungeon crawls.

GA: We All Have Varying Proficiencies

GA: I For Instance Have Devoted A Lot Of Time To Honing My Aesthetic Sensibilities And Craftsmanship

GA: But I Am Unfortunately Pretty Hopeless When It Comes To Technology

GA: Superior Ability In One Field That Has To Do With Computers Does Not Afford One Ultimate Omniscient Supremacy In All Things That Involve Touching A Keyboard You Know  
  


“Fuck you.” you say out loud. You know when someone’s making fun of you.  
  


AG: If your girlfriend can make super-advanced software why isn’t she rich?

AG: That compression code alone would have you set for life if you found the right 8uyer.

GA: How Do You Know That TT And I Are Not Already Wealthy  
  


You mutter to yourself. Have they been holding out on you? Still, good to know. Being in good with rich people is always a plus.  
  


AG: So, you two are what?

AG: A rich coder and her girlfriend who are 8ored 8ecause you have too much money, so you waste time on the internet making dungeon crawls?

TT: That’s not an inaccurate assessment.

AG: Why do you always have to talk so squirrelly and smug?

TT: If I didn’t, I might get rusty.

TT: My ability to be sufficiently squirrelly and smug might desert me at a critical moment.

TT: Also, GA likes it when I talk like this.

TT: She loves bad girls.

GA: Unfortunately It Is True

AG: This had 8etter 8e some engine.  
  


They seriously cannot stop fucking flirting for one minute! Sixty seconds, that is seriously all you ask!  
  


TT: How’s that installation going?  
  


You tab over to it.  
  


AG: Almost done.

AG: This is a long install. My rig never takes this long to install things.

TT: Not surprising.

TT: It has to unpack and introduce a lot of very unconventional code.  
  


You scowl to yourself at how superior she’s being about what a great coder she apparently is (‘unconventional’ probably just means shitty and buggy, just like this stupid messenger client) and looking away from the chat window just so you don’t have to read TT’s obnoxious smug purple text for a moment, and something catches your eye.

The wizard says that the current stage of installation is ‘ **Arguing Paradoxes’.**

The fuck does that mean?

The loading bar keeps filling up, and it switches to **‘Codifying Retroactive Justifications’**.

 **‘Handwaving Impracticables** ’

‘ **Invalidating Physical Circumscriptions** ’

‘ **Recombining Theoreticals** ’

‘ **Disregarding Continuity** ’

‘ **Stabilizing Plot Wormholes** ’

 

AG: What the hell kind of installer is this?

AG: Are these the names of files?

AG: Is this something I want on my computer?

TT: I doubt it.

TT: It’s alright, though. You’ll want it there once we're finished.

AG: What the fuck????????

AG: Did you send me a virus????????

TT: Oh, god, no!

TT: ‘Virus’ is _way_ too mild a term for what I sent you.  
  


You fling the chat window out of the way and go to the wizard.

There’s no X to get rid of it. There’s no ‘cancel’ button on the install. Just the progress bar, which is now showing ‘ **Transmitting Nonexistent Constituents** ’.  
  


AG: F8CK F8CK F8CK!!!!!!!!  
  


You force quit it. Bring up the task manager and find the core **SGATE.exe** process and end it.

Nothing happens.

It’s still going. Now it’s ‘ **Insinuating Local Context** ’. That sounds a lot like it’s sizing up your system so it can install its bullshit and log all your data and passwords and probably delete all your save files-

Fuck that. You go under the desk and wind your way through the ridiculous mess of cables and wires and yank the plug out of the power strip.

When you get back up to the screen, your blood runs cold.

‘ **Reticulating Ante/Precedents** ’

   
**‘͉͇Rḙ̟̘̭̖̳͔s̯ṱ͕͓r̬͖͍̝̫̦̟u̳̤̰͍̥̩c̙̻͉̥t͉̥̥ur̯͙̖̜̗̜̣i̯͎̱̺͔n͓̱g͈̱̻͚͚ M̥̗̲̞ạ̗̱̱͖͈t̪̭e̖̠r̲̮̘̰̥̙ͅi͇̥͓͉͈a̦l̦͉̠̮̗̼ ̮C̬͎̺̜̣͎o͕̤n͙d̘͚i͉̞̪̱̳̰tio͙͓̞͚̰̠̺n̹s͍̝’͍̟̠ͅ**

   
**‘̳̪͔̰͌ͪ͑̈́̽̚S̅͒cr̥͙̭̱̾ͫi̪̱͐̉̏͌̓ͨm͎̳͙͔̎̋s͖̳͔̲̰̤ͮ͌̿̽h̟̖͉̩̦̬ͥå͇̩̩ẅ͍̺̟ͅiͥ̈͌ͫ̇̆n̦̞̹̙͈g̭͊̄͋ ͇̝̟̳̟͖C͈̰̱͓̭͍̦ǒ̹̠͈̥̹̬́̊ͫ̐ͭn͎̖̞͎͆ͨͯ͑̓͌d̙̪͉͂̅͛̿ȗ͔̲̜̩̥̰͇͗͂͋c̫̬̯͎̘̉̎̈̐ͯ̈i̲͕ͬv͍͖͍̹̬̟̙͆ͭͮ̐͛̚e̖̹̗͚̘̘̭̓̌ͫ̇ͫ̈s̜͎̑ͧͩ̀͌’̗̏ͩ̋̎ͫ**

   
**‘̊͐̆ͪ̄D̗̟̞̫͖̋͛́ȩ̻̙͉͍̼̠̂̽̇ͫ͂͛c̞̳̳͐̎͋̾̍̐̚ͅo̬̱̠̰̘̻ͫn͔̖̥͙ͫ̐̏̋̐͗̿s̆̔ͣͥ̈́̎̇eͤ͊́̾r̜̮͂͊͌̍v̪̯̱͎̆ͬ̄͆̊ͬͅa̶͈ͬͭͧ̈́t͎͎̉͋ị̸̎̊̚n̷̎͑͌͊ͬġͤͥ ̆̾̇͋ͦͯE̵̅n̗̖͉̗̪͇͗̄̾ȇ̪͎̩̂̈͗̀̒r̟̣͚̔̓̔̅g̨̻̪͕͕͆̓̂̇ͤͦͧy͑ͥ͂ͯͨ̔͊͏̣’͖̬̲̺̑̿̑̂̌͌͝**

 

It hasn’t stopped.

And now this fucking weird … glitchy … corruption is spreading over your screen. Your monitor keeps flickering with graphical irregularities. No no no no, this is not happening, how could you have been so _stupid?!_  
  


AG: WH8T DID Y8U D8????????

AG: H8W IS IT STILL R8NNING?

T̶T:͜ ̢I̴f͝ y̢o͞u̶ a̷c͘tua͜lly rea̸d̢͝ an͜y͠t̛̕h̕͝i̕n͘g̴͘ ҉the͟ in͘staller was ̨doi͏ng, įt͘’d͏ ̷b̡e͡ ơb҉v̕io͘us̨.

TT: It͜’s͏ not m̸y f̢a̷u̴l̨t ̢t͢hat͜ ͟y̨ou͟ do̷n̸’t̨ ͏pay̧ ̡a͠t̶t͞en̛ti͠on ͡t̵o ̛y̢o̡ur͟ ͜sys̸t͟em͟ m͘es̛s̢age͝s͘.

T̡T:͡ ͞Or͞ ̢y͢our EU̧LAs.͏

AG: What???????

TT: ͟Yo͘u̶ cl̕i͢ckęd ̶‘a͏cc̴e̡p͘t͢.’

T̛T͟: ̷S̴o I̡ ͟as̨s̴ume, ̧an͜y͞w͢ay. Y͠ou̷ mu̶s͘t ha͢ve if ͏it's i̢nst͜a͢ll͢i̕n҉g.̢

 

 

F҉UTURE te̢nt̕ac҉l͢eT̸her͠api͝st **8̭̣̲͙ͭ̾͑ͯͫͤͣ̏ͦ͋ͥ͋̋.̣͍̝͉̯ͣ̀̅͑͗7̩̺̹̤̙̣̜̻̘̜̼̬͗͑̄̀͑̈̃̉͗͛͌ͥ͋̎̀̚5̲̖͕̞̤̼͖̘̪̠̞̺͕̣ͫ̍͛̓̈̌̐͗͐ͤ̇͐͊̉ͮͅͅ9͙̖͇͚̞̗̱̮̞̞͉̭̯̞̪̼̞̅̍ͥͪ̐͐̌̄͒̿ͮ̔ͅ9̘̞͚͓͉̗̠͇̠̳͂͂̋̔ͦͮͮ̅̓ͣ̍͐̚9̲̣̜͈̹̖̖͍̞̘̣̦̮͖̫̏͂ͥͯ̌9̫̳̘̥̥͕͓̼͇͓̜̝̘͗ͤ̿̆̅ͥͧͪ̀̂ͦ̊̾̎̾9͎̳̪͎͚͙̠͍ͣ̈̇͒ͦͅ9̳̥̜͙͑̽͗̿̾̏̂̈́̉͗ͭ̂̈̌9̗̥͖̺͕͙͇͓͍̘̮̰̹̟̗͙̺̾ͮ̃̿ͫ͑͐̈̄9̩͙͕͉͔͉̳̬̮̦̞̾ͧͫ͋̐͋͐ͬ͆ͅ9̲̠̗͚̹̓̐̇ͩͬ̾ͬͨͯ̋̈́ͤ͒͑ͦ9͖̜͕̠̹̙̥̳͉̎ͣ̎̏ͧ̀9̜̹̰͇̠͇͕̟̲̘͖̒ͭͪ̓̄̍ͪ͋ͬ̔ͧ̚9̺̦̘̭̘͉͎̹̮̉̈ͧͫ͋̅̂͗9̩̣̳͍͈̰̮̝̤͔̱̯ͤ͑́ͩͨͮ͌̎̍͋ͨͧ͋̔ͥ̽ͤ̅2͎̘͓͍̝̰̜̲͎͍̘͊ͩ̎͆͑ͣ̀ͦ́̋ͅ8̪̝͎̤̗͎̦͎͕͙̥̘̖̠̦̝̦̖̖͗ͦͬ͗ͧ͂͑̇ͯ̏e͕̞͇̪͍̺̤̖͈̹̘͎̖̬̩̬̟̽́͑̂ͫͬ͛ͮͨ̓̅̚+͔̰̠̬̺̬͎ͫ̎̑̃̽̓͐ͦͥ̓̋̆1̗̲̯̇͂͆̆̾ͨ̆ͨ̐̊ͮͩ̑ͅ0͈̗̞͎͚̝͕̻̭͇̯̻̮̣̼̀ͫ̅̇͐̑́ͫ͂ͤ̂͌̂̓2͍̳̪͚̮̬͔̯̯͙̩̞̿̇̎ͦͧ̾́͋̂͊̅̆̈́ͥͣ̓͋̚** Y̢E͞A̷R͡S F̸R͘O͝M҉ ̕NO͏W ͟res҉po͢nd͝e҉d͡ ͟t͡o ̵me̢m͞o.͝

F̧TT͘:̸̨ ̴O͏̡h͞,̵̸͟ y͘e̢͢s͏̸.

                                                                                _ͮ̾̑ͫ̊_͐ͮ̾̽̊ͯ̋͐͠_̊_̵ͩ̋͛_̊̇͊ͯ͋̏̊͘͞_̴̏ͬ_ͩ͗͑̎̀-̴ͣͫ̾͆͋̓`̷̩̹͖̤̣̳ͨ̽ͭ̌̆̈ͤ_̶̞͇̗̮̬ͯ̉̅*̩̼̪̬͇̫ͥ͋͌͗ͣ **%̵̸̵̨̜̯̝͉̣̗̜̻̦͖̺͍̪̮͙͚̞̎̈́̋͂ͨ̋̊ͭ̎ͦ̃̄ͨ̈́ͤ̌͆͗*̷̡̓̽̐̐ͤ̒ͬ͗̅̽̈͂҉̶͉͖̳̫̱̟͖̭͕̜͇͇̻͙͚#̢̛̛̖̩̪̰̻͖̲̭͓͗ͤ̓ͭ̉͒ͮͨͫ͋̋͑̕ͅ &̶̴̡͉̭̠̫̤̮̙̖̭̰̙͇̏̉̍̈́̋̉͌̋̅̀ͨ̓ͮͫ̓̑ͬ͆ͅͅ*̸̭̻̙̣̌̊̔ͣ̌̑̓̈̅͗̂̆ͨͨ̊̄͂͐̚͢͞ẍ̓̎ͯ̏͑͑̇̈̇̇͒͏̵̪̯̘̞̜̙̬͙̦͕͎͠͡ͅX̶̛͍̣̰͈͖͎̜̭̉͊ͤ̅̎ͬ̌̈́͛̀ͨ͑͑ͯ̚͘͢&̛̽ͥ͌̓̃̂̋͋̎̔͐͟͏͏̪̭̟̲̥̖̻͇ͅ$̸̓̿͋̐҉̝͉͇͇̥̬̗͘͠    **

F̕͞T͡T:͏̡ ̢͠S̴h͏̨ę̕̕ ͘͏͘d͏i̕d̨.

                                  /̵̹̣͚̺ͬ̂͗̋ͩ+̡̣̭͕̼̟ͤͦͅ*̞̞̅ͬͥ̏̆̽-̲̮̲~̊̈ͬ̌ͥͤ^̻̰̙̙̞̯-̴ͣͫ̾͆͋̓`̷̩̹͖̤̣̳ͨ̽ͭ̌̆̈ͤ_̶̞͇̗̮̬ͯ̉̅-̽̚͏̮`̤̯̼̯̩̽_ͬ͞*̸͎͖̟̰̻ͭ͐̾̄-̓̿ͩ͝=̹̗̫̳ͣͧ̊̅̾#̜̼͇͙̰͕̰̋̎͋̂ͨ̍`̴͓͕̻̮̍ͪ̏ͤ̂̋͗<̘͚͖̠͉̥̐͡*̩̼̪̬͇̫ͥ͋͌͗ͣ /̵̹̣͚̺ͬ̂͗̋ͩ+̡̣̭͕̼̟ͤͦͅ*̞̞̅ͬͥ̏̆̽                                **_̷̛͔̮̭̮̺̱̙̩͈͈ͨͣ̀͂̆ͣ́͐̓̿̄͗͑ͩ͟͢͜ͅ_̢̡͇̣͉̖̗̥̝̺̱̙̠̖̰͓̍̑̓͌͛ͯ̔̄ͤͧ͆_̷̵͚̖̣̠̬̘̠͋̍̉͠_̸̢̣̻̜̙̬̼͇͈̜̞́̎ͦ͑ͤ̾̃̿̉ͯ̍̏͟_̮͔̞̫̜̦̤̯ͪ̽̍͐̐͒̒̏̋̚̕͢ͅ_̸̫̖͚̮̦̠͚͎͉̟̞̤̣̫̼̭̩̐̓̿̾̄̐ͪ̚͜͝ͅ_̀̉͋̓̄͊̍͛̚͡͞҉̟͍̤͇̻̩̻̥͍̩_̴̸̮̬̟̘͇̺̞̪̱̤̠̰̖̻ͦͧ̈̄ͨ̐̍ͯ̔ͮ̚̚͜͠_ͥ̅̃̂ͧͧ͒̉ͣ͑̀͛͂̐ͩͦ҉̩̭̟̳̬͇̦̻̦̹̱͚̗̹̺**

 

**D̖̥͈͂͆͌̄ͦͧ̌ͫ̔i̦̘̞̳ͮ̅s̠ͬ͌ͥ̄e͚̟̠͙̼̭̝̪͐͆̿̈́̋͒n͇͖̮̹͋͆͗̿̓ͅg̰̱̞̬̲͔ͭ̔a͔̣̻̥̣͙͓̅ͧͮͤ̃g̦̟͉̗͈ͮ͆i̦̼̜̇̌͋n̫̼͂ͣ͋ͮ͂g͈̦͈̥̎ͣ͋̌̀ͤ ͔͚̪̠̼̳̫̫C̗̠o̘̞̰͖̰̟̲r̬̼̺̰̘p͍̘͇̦̖͓͙̘͚o͉̻̲͎̱͉ͅr̟̖̘̹̹̦e̤͇ͅa̟͕l͈ ̳̥̭ͅP̫̝̪̱͎̗r̼̱̖̙͔͖̹͓̯̼̠̘̅̌ͤ͊o̦̯͓̞̐̌͆ḧ͇͍̝̠͕̮̼̀̅̿ͨͮ̎̍̊ͪͤ͂̑̃̅̀͛̓ͅi̱̜͈̪̟̩̳̪͖̫͍̖̍̓ͯ̾̆ͪ̄̑̓͂͌͐̚ͅͅb̭̦̥̹̘͍̟͍̜͓̯͎͔͇͔̭͑̔̓̀̿̂̾ͧ̍ͮ͆ͦ̓͐i̹̰̩̲̮̬̙͖̠͇͚͕͈͎̇ͮ̒ͦ̂̽̂͌̔̚ͅt̞̤̟̝̠̣̮̙̘͖̭̼͈̟̞̳͓̼̤̄̔̌̓̊̔͌̌̔͒̅̔̋ͩͮ̊i̹̯̮͚̼̩̱͍̤͇͕͕͚̺̩̦̗ͭ̒̎ͮ̎o̯̪̞̘͖̦͔̬̙̬̣̩̫͎̗͎̒̋ͨ̄ͬ͋̎͋̓̑͂̈́ͭ͊n͇̲͍̭̲̩̟͔̼̜͇̝̗͎̣̣̜̑͗ͥ̈ͬ̿̄̇̑̀̚s̳̝̱̳ͫ̌̍̓ͩ̍͗ͯ͑́ͦ͐ͦ̄͋̚**

 

**̟̙͉̪ͩͬ́͂̔͊ͅ‘̩͓ͬ͋ͩͬͮͬS̳̟͖̮̟̍ͤͧ̀̋̋ͦ͋e̫͇ͧͣ̉́ͫ͂ͤq̻̹͈̘̖̻̎̂u̖̱̥͙̗̭̞ͩ̊̓̄ĕ͖͓̻̲̔ͪs̱̫͕̞ͤ̆t͈̝̜̯̯̔ͨ̀̾ͬ̐̐̌ͤë̩̩̖͉͒̾͗̏̋̿ͅṙ̘͆ͅi̺̻̰̩̠͆͆͋ͪn̜̼̙͇͖͉̤̥̓ͨ̔̔̿ͦ́ͣg͔̳̥̮͕̙̭͙̑ ̹̤̜͙̤̓͗̔̃ͮͩ͐͆P̜̫͈ͩ̑̏̓́͐ͪͅͅr͓͔̻̙̀ͫ̎ͣ̾̉̉ǐ̠̬̙͉͇͈̘̪̖ṇ̰̯̣̬̺̏ͦ̓c̜̣̞̙̥͔̲̟͆ͨͩ̀ͮ̉̋̑ȋ͇͛p̼̣̦͔ͭ̏̉̚a͎̘͈̯̫̳ͯl̟̦̜̻̳̞̺͆ͪ̂ͪ̋i̬͉̮͇͈̼̫̐ͬͧ̿t̫̘͎͈̩̲̖̿ͪ̀̀̓i̭̤͓̘̣̤̟̟̒̄͂̀ͪ̍̔̓̿e̙̣͎̮̺̱͎̽̾ͣ̎͗ͣs̥̮ͭͦ̀̅͑͋’̺͉̩͈̳͕͋͛**

**̠̥̥̝̼̳͗̏̿ͭ̌**

**̗̠̼͚̫̪̰̳̈́́̈́̎͂͒ͅ**

**̺͍̗̳̎͛ͫ̉‘̤̣̟ͩ́̈́̎̀͊̽̚E̠͇̭̯ͣ̉ͩ̈̇s̮̦̺͙͈͉̓́̎ͫ́ͪ̈́ͩ̏t͉̝̥̠̼̩̯̲ͯ̎͋̈ͅã͇̖̹̌ḅ͓̰͖̜̰̟͗̅̌̊̈́̏ͮ̋ͅl̝̝̯͓̺̣̗̃͑i̖̜͚ͣ̿̅̾s̲͚͊̾̎̊̽̌̚h̘̬͎̼ͬͣͯ̍̊̽́i̤̭̣̰̠̦̥̇n̫̤͙̪͗͆̍g͔̘̭̦̰̫̽ ̬̙̟͙̔̀ͅE̙̘̣̩̘̬̖̙̽͒̍̃̎ͬx̠̜̺̼ͥ͊̽ͭ͐ͪͅŏ̩̥̻̜̭͊ͩ̓͆͊ͧ́ͯt̮̜̲̙̐ͯͪ̆̆̃̉ͩ̂e͙̤̘̦̘̣̩͓͊̇̉ḿ͉̯̰͕̥͑͋ͮp̟͙͇͍̞̣͉̀͗ͦ̃͋ͯo͍̦͙̰̠͍͖ͭ̌ͯr̯͍̝̀ͬ̇͊̔̅̄ǻ̱͈̞̖͓̹͙ͦ͊̾̈́l̯̿̇̓́̍̒͛̊͊ ̦͇̲͚̼̘̊̀V̞̮̑̔ͪ̈̊ͮ̄i̼̙̜̯̦͊͛ͧ̉̋͂̄ạ͍̭̤͙̎̋ͬͦd͚̲͙̥̮̻ͥ̒̾u̺̫͔̓̽̈̇̋̇c̱͈͖̣̝̣͉ͭͬͮͤͩ̌̿ͩť̬̭̳ͨ̎͌̅̓͌́’͕̪̆**

͖̪̬͖̱̘̠ͦ

**/̵̹̣͚̺ͬ̂͗̋ͩ+̡̣̭͕̼̟ͤͦͅ*̞̞̅ͬͥ̏̆̽-̲̮̲~̊̈ͬ̌ͥͤ^̻̰̙̙̞̯-̴ͣͫ̾͆͋̓`̷̩̹͖̤̣̳ͨ̽ͭ̌̆̈ͤ_̶̞͇̗̮̬ͯ̉̅*̩̼̪̬͇̫ͥ͋͌͗ͣ-̜̲̦̐=̹̫̻̲͌̏#̤͋̎`̫̠̦̻̪̋̓̈ͫ̔͐ͪ͡ <̣\̛̖̳͇͔̥̼̇̃̀͊{̫̺̘̆̍ͯ̍̒͂`̴̪͖̱͐̃͂́̀ͅ=̺̞͖̦͌͗̍ͦ̀͠_̘̱-̙̰ͦͧͪͧͣ͗̾ͅ*̩̼̪̬͇̫ͥ͋͌͗ͣ-̜̲̦̐=̹̫̻̲͌̏#̤͋̎`̫̠̦̻̪̋̓̈ͫ̔͐ͪ͡<̣\̛̖̳͇͔̥̼̇̃̀͊{̫̺̘̆̍ͯ̍̒͂`̴̪͖̱͐̃͂́̀ͅ=̺̞͖̦͌͗̍ͦ̀͠_̘̱-̙̰ͦͧͪͧͣ͗̾ͅ/̵̹̣͚̺ͬ̂͗̋ͩ+̡̣̭͕̼̟ͤͦͅ*̞̞̅ͬͥ̏̆̽-̲̮̲~̊̈ͬ̌ͥͤ^̻̰̙̙̞̯-̴ͣͫ̾͆͋̓`̷̩̹͖̤̣̳ͨ̽ͭ̌̆̈ͤ_̶̞͇̗̮̬ͯ̉̅*̩̼̪̬͇̫ͥ͋͌͗ͣ**

 

**& ͗̓̒͌ͨͨ͝҉̥͙̦̯̯̞̼̰͍#̢̫̦͈̰͕̫̣̖̩̭̳̯̻͍̫͉̙͒ͭ̀̽͌ͨ͒̑̎ͫ͑̄͆͑͋ͬ̈͘͢͟͠%͕̮̗̱̣̑̾ͥ̍̌̇̽̎͒̉ͥͬ́͛̔ͣ͟%̵̸̵̨̜̯̝͉̣̗̜̻̦͖̺͍̪̮͙͚̞̎̈́̋͂ͨ̋̊ͭ̎ͦ̃̄ͨ̈́ͤ̌͆͗*̷̡̓̽̐̐ͤ̒ͬ͗̅̽̈͂҉̶͉͖̳̫̱̟͖̭͕̜͇͇̻͙͚#̢̛̛̖̩̪̰̻͖̲̭͓͗ͤ̓ͭ̉͒ͮͨͫ͋̋͑̕ͅ&̶̴̡͉̭̠̫̤̮̙̖̭̰̙͇̏̉̍̈́̋̉͌̋̅̀ͨ̓ͮͫ̓̑ͬ͆ͅͅ*̸̭̻̙̣̌̊̔ͣ̌̑̓̈̅͗̂̆ͨͨ̊̄͂͐̚͢͞ẍ̓̎ͯ̏͑͑̇̈̇̇͒͏̵̪̯̘̞̜̙̬͙̦͕͎͠͡ͅX̶̛͍̣̰͈͖͎̜̭̉͊ͤ̅̎ͬ̌̈́͛̀ͨ͑͑ͯ̚͘͢&̛̽ͥ͌̓̃̂̋͋̎̔͐͟͏͏̪̭̟̲̥̖̻͇ͅ$̸̓̿͋̐҉̝͉͇͇̥̬̗͘͠)̴̢̧͈̯̬͚̺̃̅͊̚̕͢~ͪ̄ͤͤ̎̇͗͑̊̋͏̮̜̜̗+̷̓͂ͮ̄̉̽̄̽͗̄͡҉͕͇̩͎͉̖̣#̳͎̭̲͎̱̪͖̰̮̹͉̜̭͕̻̱̔̽͌̆̋̾ͨ̌ͩ͛̋̔̏ͣ̂͊̓̚̕͢ͅ-̙͍̖͚̞͕̠̟͙̟͙̳̦̭͎̩̼̈́̽͌ͨ̐͌̉ͩ̏̽̉̿́ͤ̂ͯ͡͠͡=̛̯̭̦̼͔̻̻̼̺̪̤͓̗́̇̈́ͨͭ̿ͤ͡\̶̧̝̹̳̹̬̝͙̮̺͎͎͚̆͛̽͘͘͟`̷̢̧̤̠̺̙̟̦̝̼̰͒̋̽͂̽̋ͨ̑̽͠/̼̥̻̇̾̅̅͊̏̌̎ͦ̅ͥ͆̽̆͜͠#ͪ̀̿̾̽҉̵̵̖̪̻̠͍̫̠̜͇̦̹̳̞̞̟̲̳͓͡ͅ≠̡̠̻̹̳͍̙̩̜̘̞̜̞̻̘̹̤͈̥̠ͮ͆ͮ̑͛ͣ̈́̿̏̄̾ͩ͐ͬ̕#̏ͪ̈́͛́̚͜͏̦͕̮̥̹͇͍̲?̶̷̵̛̳̺͓̣̫̔͆ͤͧ̽ͩ̿͑͊ͭͦͥͦ̚*̵̶̧͉̠͖̪̫̠̬̟̻̼̯̻̝̳̪̘ͪ̿ͦͥ͛̌̐ͅ~̴̡̬͓̠̲̺̬̮̗͇̣̲̙͓̯ͫͩ̎ͪ͆̀̋͒͠>̛͕͓̘̭͉̭͕̹͔̦͓̥̗̪̠̭̰͗̿ͪ̏͂̾͒͞ͅ ̛̻̥̥̬̝̠̖̥̗̽͆̎͛̓̂͑͒ͤ̓̐ͫ͛͋̿͋ͮ͘͜-ͩ̐̍̒̐̉ͭ̂͒ͦ̆̎̚҉҉͙̯̙̮̖̪̺̼̫̺̮_̔ͧͭ̐ͥͦ̋ͫ̓ͬ̅ͣ̽ͧ̄̊͆̌̚҉̢͇͈̩̼͔͍̺͇̩̦͎̖͈̤̳̳`̸̲͓͚͖͇͎̪̼̥̜̙̟̝͉̺̥̯̃ͧ͋ͦ̒͑̓͆͌̚%͌̿̒͒̐ͣ͂͏̷̦̲̭̗̖̠̹̳͕̲!̟͉̝̰̱̻͔̝̰̦͇͈͚͚̤̼̲̐̓̆͗̿͑ͥ̑̆̇̕̕͞ ̶̦̳͈͔͚̟̹͉̭̠̖̤̗̝̯̜̮̩ͮ̇ͬ̍͐͋ͮͭ̍͒̀͢͜͡͝*̦̜̼̠̘̜͉̦̥̘͉͎̳̣̜͙͇͍͚͑̍̈ͣ̋ͪͮ̈́̅̐̀͊͗̃̇̊̅͗͑͟ ̴̛̻͎̝̹̪̤̜̗̺͇͓̳̺̻̙̫͕̩̂̎͒̌̌̇ͪ͋ͤ͗̚͟͡_̶̓̆̃ͨͨͪͦͤ̇̑ͫ̑͒͗ͣ̽͝͏̷̭̯͈͓͓͈͇̗̟̳̥͜ͅ_̴̈͒ͯ̂̉ͥͯ͑͋̑͒̉͒͘͝҉̳͇̮͇̮̖**

 

**/̵̹̣͚̺ͬ̂͗̋ͩ+̡̣̭͕̼̟ͤͦͅ*̞̞̅ͬͥ̏̆̽-̲̮̲~̊̈ͬ̌ͥͤ^̻̰̙̙̞̯-̴ͣͫ̾͆͋̓`̷̩̹͖̤̣̳ͨ̽ͭ̌̆̈ͤ_̶̞͇̗̮̬ͯ̉̅*̩̼̪̬͇̫ͥ͋͌͗ͣ-̜̲̦̐=̹̫̻̲͌̏#̤͋̎`̫̠̦̻̪̋̓̈ͫ̔͐ͪ͡ <̣\̛̖̳͇͔̥̼̇̃̀͊{̫̺̘̆̍ͯ̍̒͂`̴̪͖̱͐̃͂́̀ͅ=̺̞͖̦͌͗̍ͦ̀͠_̘̱-̙̰ͦͧͪͧͣ͗̾ͅ*̩̼̪̬͇̫ͥ͋͌͗ͣ-̜̲̦̐=̹̫̻̲͌̏#̤͋̎`̫̠̦̻̪̋̓̈ͫ̔͐ͪ͡<̣\̛̖̳͇͔̥̼̇̃̀͊{̫̺̘̆̍ͯ̍̒͂`̴̪͖̱͐̃͂́̀ͅ=̺̞͖̦͌͗̍ͦ̀͠_̘̱-̙̰ͦͧͪͧͣ͗̾ͅ/̵̹̣͚̺ͬ̂͗̋ͩ+̡̣̭͕̼̟ͤͦͅ*̞̞̅ͬͥ̏̆̽-̲̮̲~̊̈ͬ̌ͥͤ^̻̰̙̙̞̯-̴ͣͫ̾͆͋̓`̷̩̹͖̤̣̳ͨ̽ͭ̌̆̈ͤ_̶̞͇̗̮̬ͯ̉̅*̩̼̪̬͇̫ͥ͋͌͗ͣ**

 

**-̸ͣͮͪͤ̈ͨ̔́͗͑ͧͨͧ̏҉̦̱̬̹̹͉̹̣_̨̛͎̫̻̣͕̭̘̭̱̮͈ͫͯ̿̿̄͆͛̑̉ͦͧ̄̉̽̐͒`̢̜̝͉̺̥͉͖̩͖̳͖̾̈́̈́̿ͩ̌̈́̀͟+̧̱͍̯̘̦̟͓͉̪̮̫̗̓ͯ̌ͯ̌͗͛͐ͫ̓̿ͮ̆̉͝ ̢̡͇̗̩̭̦̗̣͇̞́ͣ̎ͫ͗͐ͣͭ̃̓͐ͧ̚͢*͋̏ͯ̒̅ͭ̌͏͎͖͙̭ ̼̭̻͈̤͇͉̯͔̺̹͉͇̯͎̗̭̎̿͒͗͋͗̍ͣ͆̄̔̄̇̚͘͟ͅ_̭͔̭̯̖̼̬̲̓̈́̎͐ͩ̒̏͒ͨ̽ͦ̀́̐̑͆̍̑ͫ͜͝͝_̡ͬ͑ͦ̽̓̊ͬ̄҉̶̨̯̯̜̤͔͔̝̖̹̭͙̣̻͓̼̘͙̗-ͮ̉̔̐̆ͩ̾̏̅̃͛̍̂̕҉̙̠̩͍͔̫̟̻~̶̦̫͍̦̭̭̬͙̣̒ͣͣ͋̑͂ͫ̐͡ͅ >̛̞̭̣̮̘͕̜̯͔̖̭̻͔̺͓̣̯̺ͥͣ̎̊̿͢͠ͅ ̛̬͍͇̥̫̺͈͖̎͊͆͊ͩ̽̔͒ͯ̓͟͞-̙̝̘̙͖̼̰͎̰̐̀̍ͦ͐̐ͩ̋͌̃̾̍̌͐ͣ̚͜ ̛̝̹̞̱̻͇͖̹͇̳̤͎͔̰͇̳̦̆́ͩ̅̆ͩ̏̏̏ͦͨͯ͐̄͟͡_̹͔̥̙͕̤̟̪̥͆̉͑̇̀ͨ̄͐ͤ̔̎ͣ̈́̆ͦ͑ͨ͞ ̵̐͊̎̇ͯ̑͛̄͗̾͆ͥ͊͋͢҉҉̘̦̤̞̦̺̫̗͎͇̜̖̤̫`̛̣̭̮̩̯̫̣̤̣̲̫̯ͫͣͧ̋͝^̶̰̫̘͕̬̥̞̟̲ͤ̃ͥ̊̎̈́͌̾ͤ̚͘͢~̴̗̝̝̘̹̖̥̼̳͙̥̥̳̫͕̠̗̈́̂̃̐ͨ̉ͬ̽̈́̽́̾ͦ̏ͧ͆͐ͫ>̵̠͔̲̤͓͖͙̌̒̑̈́̽̍ͪ̇́͊̚͢͜͠ ̸ͭ̅̈́̈͒͐̍ͪ̽ͣ̏ͬ͐ͨ̈҉̸̦͔̲̳̫̲̥͍̤̳͉ͅͅ-̉͆͋̓̏̍ͯ̅̏̇ͬ͏̢̭͙̣̘͔̜͓̲͟ ̛̬͍̘͈ͬ͒̽̌̑ͧ̕͘͜_̭̙̱̹̲̍ͩ̊̓̀͂̐͑̈́ͩ̔̂ͩ͑͑ͧ̚͞ ̛̛̖̖̠̫͙̠̭͔̜̺̬͓̻̖̻̹͍̊ͫͩ̓̔̊̂͒̃͗̂̊ͅͅ`͔̗̰̱̰͒ͨ̎̄̃̄ͤ̃͟͞^̷̹̤̲̲̬͔̠̥̥͎̭͕̺̪̰͎̝͓ͨ̐̽͒̒͂͗͋ͣ͘-ͮ̑̃ͤ͋ͩ̈ͧͯ͆̅ͣ̓͋͆ͬ̐҉͚̤̺̦͓͖͍̟͎͓͇̙̳͙̖̥̥̕_̲̳̖̜̟̦̻͑̅ͪ͂̎͐͊̊̎ͬ͑̒̇̄̕͢`͐̑̈́́̈̈̋ͩͥ͏͖̗̗̲͖̻͙̘̜̣͎͎͖̤̘̙͖͍̤%̡͂̓̐ͨ͛̐ͣͩͨ̚̚҉̯͉̬͎̠̦͙̜̳̦̮̞̤̳͈!̀͑͆ͩ͆̃̀̀̍̎͏̵̙͔̮̟̯̥͇̯ ̵͌ͫ̒ͨ̎͒͋͛̉̃̃ͮ̊̐͗̾͏̵̪͎͇͖̜̰͍̘̠͖̦͚*̷̰̫͚̝̠̳̯͉̗͓̥̣̫̽͒̋̆̄̐͟͢ ̡͖̙͕̮͎̫͖̺̝͈͙̰͉͎̙̦̈́̇̉ͩͮͮ̉̇͘_̸̻̖͕̮͍̬̱̲͉̹͕͇̳̬̲ͤ͂ͧ͋́͘͜͞_̋̌̾̓̾͆̋͟҉̧͔̲͙̝̳̮̪̠͓̯̥̮͢ͅ-̶̡̭̖̗̤̥̇͌̔̋̆͟!̟͉̝̰̱̻͔̝̰̦͇͈͚͚̤̼̲̐̓̆͗̿͑ͥ̑̆̇̕̕͞ ̶̦̳͈͔͚̟̹͉̭̠̖̤̗̝̯̜̮̩ͮ̇ͬ̍͐͋ͮͭ̍͒̀͢͜͡͝*̦̜̼̠̘̜͉̦̥̘͉͎̳̣̜͙͇͍͚͑̍̈ͣ̋ͪͮ̈́̅̐̀͊͗̃̇̊̅͗͑͟ ̴̛̻͎̝̹̪̤̜̗̺͇͓̳̺̻̙̫͕̩̂̎͒̌̌̇ͪ͋ͤ͗̚͟͡_̶̓̆̃ͨͨͪͦͤ̇̑ͫ̑͒͗ͣ̽͝͏̷̭̯͈͓͓͈͇̗̟̳̥͜ͅ_̴̈͒ͯ̂̉ͥͯ͑͋̑͒̉͒͘͝҉̳͇̮͇̮̖-̢̡̛̣̝̭̦̼̲̱͇̜͍̳̋̂̾ͫ̚͟~̛̼̦̯͎̦̣̤̠̺͕̝͚͒̔ͩͩ̒ͭ>̨̫̠̗͉̮̳̱̠̫͍̳̣̖̖̫̻̮̤̍̊͌̉ͪ̾̃̾͢͠ ̶̷̢̛̙̜͈͖̼̥̝̝̄͊͑̉ͩͫ͆ͣͫ̄͗̀̆͌ͫ̊ͦ̍̒͢ͅ-̂ͮ̽͋ͤ҉̸̛̜̝͔̻̲͖͇͔̠̣̪ ̛̮̯̮̗̦̘̪̼͙͈̞̗̣̈̆ͨ͒͗̀̆͠͝͡_̷̣͈͕̪͓̰̝ͣ͗̅͆͌̒̍ͨ̿͂͑͐́ͫͤͭ̕ͅ)̴̶̢̧̩̘͙̞̻̼̳̙͚̟ͫ͌̆ͨͯ̒͊̾̀͑̄̔ͪͯ̎͌̚͜`̽̍ͪ͛ͮͤ҉̶̫̲͉͙͈̝̦̠̹̘͢͠~̴̷̨̲̰̹͕̞̩̯̻͈̻̞̥̣̙̏̋ͣ͊̔́ͮ̌̿̉ͤ͌̍͂ͤͥ̚**

 

**& ͗̓̒͌ͨͨ͝҉̥͙̦̯̯̞̼̰͍#̢̫̦͈̰͕̫̣̖̩̭̳̯̻͍̫͉̙͒ͭ̀̽͌ͨ͒̑̎ͫ͑̄͆͑͋ͬ̈͘͢͟͠%͕̮̗̱̣̑̾ͥ̍̌̇̽̎͒̉ͥͬ́͛̔ͣ͟%̵̸̵̨̜̯̝͉̣̗̜̻̦͖̺͍̪̮͙͚̞̎̈́̋͂ͨ̋̊ͭ̎ͦ̃̄ͨ̈́ͤ̌͆͗*̷̡̓̽̐̐ͤ̒ͬ͗̅̽̈͂҉̶͉͖̳̫̱̟͖̭͕̜͇͇̻͙͚#̢̛̛̖̩̪̰̻͖̲̭͓͗ͤ̓ͭ̉͒ͮͨͫ͋̋͑̕ͅ&̶̴̡͉̭̠̫̤̮̙̖̭̰̙͇̏̉̍̈́̋̉͌̋̅̀ͨ̓ͮͫ̓̑ͬ͆ͅͅ*̸̭̻̙̣̌̊̔ͣ̌̑̓̈̅͗̂̆ͨͨ̊̄͂͐̚͢͞ẍ̓̎ͯ̏͑͑̇̈̇̇͒͏̵̪̯̘̞̜̙̬͙̦͕͎͠͡ͅX̶̛͍̣̰͈͖͎̜̭̉͊ͤ̅̎ͬ̌̈́͛̀ͨ͑͑ͯ̚͘͢&̛̽ͥ͌̓̃̂̋͋̎̔͐͟͏͏̪̭̟̲̥̖̻͇ͅ$̸̓̿͋̐҉̝͉͇͇̥̬̗͘͠)̴̢̧͈̯̬͚̺̃̅͊̚̕͢~ͪ̄ͤͤ̎̇͗͑̊̋͏̮̜̜̗+̷̓͂ͮ̄̉̽̄̽͗̄͡҉͕͇̩͎͉̖̣#̳͎̭̲͎̱̪͖̰̮̹͉̜̭͕̻̱̔̽͌̆̋̾ͨ̌ͩ͛̋̔̏ͣ̂͊̓̚̕͢ͅ-̙͍̖͚̞͕̠̟͙̟͙̳̦̭͎̩̼̈́̽͌ͨ̐͌̉ͩ̏̽̉̿́ͤ̂ͯ͡͠͡=̛̯̭̦̼͔̻̻̼̺̪̤͓̗́̇̈́ͨͭ̿ͤ͡\̶̧̝̹̳̹̬̝͙̮̺͎͎͚̆͛̽͘͘͟`̷̢̧̤̠̺̙̟̦̝̼̰͒̋̽͂̽̋ͨ̑̽͠/̼̥̻̇̾̅̅͊̏̌̎ͦ̅ͥ͆̽̆͜͠#ͪ̀̿̾̽҉̵̵̖̪̻̠͍̫̠̜͇̦̹̳̞̞̟̲̳͓͡ͅ≠̡̠̻̹̳͍̙̩̜̘̞̜̞̻̘̹̤͈̥̠ͮ͆ͮ̑͛ͣ̈́̿̏̄̾ͩ͐ͬ̕#̏ͪ̈́͛́̚͜͏̦͕̮̥̹͇͍̲?̶̷̵̛̳̺͓̣̫̔͆ͤͧ̽ͩ̿͑͊ͭͦͥͦ̚*̵̶̧͉̠͖̪̫̠̬̟̻̼̯̻̝̳̪̘ͪ̿ͦͥ͛̌̐ͅ~̴̡̬͓̠̲̺̬̮̗͇̣̲̙͓̯ͫͩ̎ͪ͆̀̋͒͠>̛͕͓̘̭͉̭͕̹͔̦͓̥̗̪̠̭̰͗̿ͪ̏͂̾͒͞ͅ ̛̻̥̥̬̝̠̖̥̗̽͆̎͛̓̂͑͒ͤ̓̐ͫ͛͋̿͋ͮ͘͜-ͩ̐̍̒̐̉ͭ̂͒ͦ̆̎̚҉҉͙̯̙̮̖̪̺̼̫̺̮_̔ͧͭ̐ͥͦ̋ͫ̓ͬ̅ͣ̽ͧ̄̊͆̌̚҉̢͇͈̩̼͔͍̺͇̩̦͎̖͈̤̳̳`̸̲͓͚͖͇͎̪̼̥̜̙̟̝͉̺̥̯̃ͧ͋ͦ̒͑̓͆͌̚%͌̿̒͒̐ͣ͂͏̷̦̲̭̗̖̠̹̳͕̲!̟͉̝̰̱̻͔̝̰̦͇͈͚͚̤̼̲̐̓̆͗̿͑ͥ̑̆̇̕̕͞ ̶̦̳͈͔͚̟̹͉̭̠̖̤̗̝̯̜̮̩ͮ̇ͬ̍͐͋ͮͭ̍͒̀͢͜͡͝*̦̜̼̠̘̜͉̦̥̘͉͎̳̣̜͙͇͍͚͑̍̈ͣ̋ͪͮ̈́̅̐̀͊͗̃̇̊̅͗͑͟ ̴̛̻͎̝̹̪̤̜̗̺͇͓̳̺̻̙̫͕̩̂̎͒̌̌̇ͪ͋ͤ͗̚͟͡_̶̓̆̃ͨͨͪͦͤ̇̑ͫ̑͒͗ͣ̽͝͏̷̭̯͈͓͓͈͇̗̟̳̥͜ͅ_̴̈͒ͯ̂̉ͥͯ͑͋̑͒̉͒͘͝҉̳͇̮͇̮̖**

 

**~̴̡̬͓̠̲̺̬̮̗͇̣̲̙͓̯ͫͩ̎ͪ͆̀̋͒͠ >̛͕͓̘̭͉̭͕̹͔̦͓̥̗̪̠̭̰͗̿ͪ̏͂̾͒͞ͅ ̛̻̥̥̬̝̠̖̥̗̽͆̎͛̓̂͑͒ͤ̓̐ͫ͛͋̿͋ͮ͘͜-ͩ̐̍̒̐̉ͭ̂͒ͦ̆̎̚҉҉͙̯̙̮̖̪̺̼̫̺̮_̔ͧͭ̐ͥͦ̋ͫ̓ͬ̅ͣ̽ͧ̄̊͆̌̚҉̢͇͈̩̼͔͍̺͇̩̦͎̖͈̤̳̳`̸̲͓͚͖͇͎̪̼̥̜̙̟̝͉̺̥̯̃ͧ͋ͦ̒͑̓͆͌̚%͌̿̒͒̐ͣ͂͏̷̦̲̭̗̖̠̹̳͕̲!̟͉̝̰̱̻͔̝̰̦͇͈͚͚̤̼̲̐̓̆͗̿͑ͥ̑̆̇̕̕͞ ̶̦̳͈͔͚̟̹͉̭̠̖̤̗̝̯̜̮̩ͮ̇ͬ̍͐͋ͮͭ̍͒̀͢͜͡͝*̦̜̼̠̘̜͉̦̥̘͉͎̳̣̜͙͇͍͚͑̍̈ͣ̋ͪͮ̈́̅̐̀͊͗̃̇̊̅͗͑͟ ̴̛̻͎̝̹̪̤̜̗̺͇͓̳̺̻̙̫͕̩̂̎͒̌̌̇ͪ͋ͤ͗̚͟͡_̶̓̆̃ͨͨͪͦͤ̇̑ͫ̑͒͗ͣ̽͝͏̷̭̯͈͓͓͈͇̗̟̳̥͜ͅ_̴̈͒ͯ̂̉ͥͯ͑͋̑͒̉͒͘͝҉̳͇̮͇̮̖-̢̡̛̣̝̭̦̼̲̱͇̜͍̳̋̂̾ͫ̚͟~̛̼̦̯͎̦̣̤̠̺͕̝͚͒̔ͩͩ̒ͭ>̨̫̠̗͉̮̳̱̠̫͍̳̣̖̖̫̻̮̤̍̊͌̉ͪ̾̃̾͢͠ ̶̷̢̛̙̜͈͖̼̥̝̝̄͊͑̉ͩͫ͆ͣͫ̄͗̀̆͌ͫ̊ͦ̍̒͢ͅ-̂ͮ̽͋ͤ҉̸̛̜̝͔̻̲͖͇͔̠̣̪ ̛̮̯̮̗̦̘̪̼͙͈̞̗̣̈̆ͨ͒͗̀̆͠͝͡_̷̣͈͕̪͓̰̝ͣ͗̅͆͌̒̍ͨ̿͂͑͐́ͫͤͭ̕ͅ)̴̶̢̧̩̘͙̞̻̼̳̙͚̟ͫ͌̆ͨͯ̒͊̾̀͑̄̔ͪͯ̎͌̚͜`̽̍ͪ͛ͮͤ҉̶̫̲͉͙͈̝̦̠̹̘͢͠~̴̷̨̲̰̹͕̞̩̯̻͈̻̞̥̣̙̏̋ͣ͊̔́ͮ̌̿̉ͤ͌̍͂ͤͥ̚!̟͉̝̰̱̻͔̝̰̦͇͈͚͚̤̼̲̐̓̆͗̿͑ͥ̑̆̇̕̕͞ ̶̦̳͈͔͚̟̹͉̭̠̖̤̗̝̯̜̮̩ͮ̇ͬ̍͐͋ͮͭ̍͒̀͢͜͡͝*̦̜̼̠̘̜͉̦̥̘͉͎̳̣̜͙͇͍͚͑̍̈ͣ̋ͪͮ̈́̅̐̀͊͗̃̇̊̅͗͑͟ ̴̛̻͎̝̹̪̤̜̗̺͇͓̳̺̻̙̫͕̩̂̎͒̌̌̇ͪ͋ͤ͗̚͟͡_̶̓̆̃ͨͨͪͦͤ̇̑ͫ̑͒͗ͣ̽͝͏̷̭̯͈͓͓͈͇̗̟̳̥͜ͅ_̴̈͒ͯ̂̉ͥͯ͑͋̑͒̉͒͘͝҉̳͇̮͇̮̖/̵̨̨ͦ̾̾̽͐ͬͯ̎̍̍ͭ̏҉̖̗͍̹͚͎͎͔̟̺̹̳̣̻͈̻+̨͊͂͗͋́̈́̀̓́̌̀͂̌ͧͨ̉͂ͤ͏̥̺̳̭͈̻̖̦̯͎͓̺̪̻ͅ*̀͑̎ͯ̂̀ͤ̀҉̵̸̨̛̱̼̳̫̥̮̩̝͈̼̩̩̦͉̭-̷̼̝̘̱̝̜̬͉͓̥̖̱̼̌̉ͮ̅ͪͩ̀̋ͫ̒̏ͦ̈́͆ͤ̍̚̚̕͠ͅ~̷̡̨̤̭̲̟̲͉͓̹̦̙̻̖͓͓͈̜̑ͧͥ̍̓̈ͅ^̮͔͇͕̰̣͚͕̬̣̥̮̻͖̗̤̘̾̆̿ͮ̅ͤ̏̍̓͞͠-̛͙̗̫̣̞̙̭̱̖̮̘̱͙͓̅͛̍ͧ͑̊ͫ͐̉̇̎ͤ̓̃̃̿̇ͦ͟͞`̸̢͓̳̙̠̩͔͍͍̥͇͉̱̄̾͛̾̓͘ͅ_̶̨̭̣̳̮̗̭̞͓̂ͦͫ̅̔͌͛̂͆̆͋̄́͊͟͜͞*̶̢̘̣͕̪͒̓͗͋͋ͥͮ̏̆ͪ̓͛͒͆͊̉͢-̨̛̲̞̪̫͎͕͓̪̰̞̮͕̩̹͔̜̰ͯ̊̂ͣ̐̀̑̃͑ͥ̿ͯ͂͊͛͢͟=͖̩̩̘͕̝̙͖͎̘̝̬̗̜̭̼ͤ̐̽́ͬ́͊̌ͪ̆̄ͣ̀̐ͧ̕͞#̶̢͆̓ͨ̑́ͫͦ̃͢͏͍̟̟`̭̣̱̳̖̭̘͙̲̣͙̞̗̩͈ͨͨͤͩͥ̍ͨ̋ͥ̑̓̉̂ͧ̅̐͝͝<̨̢̲̮̯̬͋̽ͪ͊̋̅̓ͤ̔̓̊\͓̼̫͚̭̫͔̲̘͕̠̮̘̘͉̱͎̭̾̀̓́̈ͯ̆̿̏̏ͣ̉͠{̡̧̳̖̭͕̥͈̰̲̟͚̝͖ͨ̃͗̊̀̈͢`̘͉̠̤͚̲̤͚̤̠̱̭̬̹̭̿̿͌̑ͥ͛ͨͣ͗ͪͦ̌̑͐̍̚̕ͅ=̨̬͚͈̮̉͑̾ͥ̓̃̒̎̏ͧ̆̂ͯ̄̀̒ͨ̚̚͡_̬̖̻̫̞͎̬̫͖͍̺̺̠̙̭̲̾̾ͯ̂̋̂ͣ͢͡͠͠ͅ-̸̘̲̤͎́͗̐ͮ̎̊ͣ̇ͦ̍̄͂̓̂͗̾͂̀͘͢**

 

  
The lights in the whole room flicker. It’s like a brown-out, but it’s … purple? instead of brown. This purple code is spreading across the entire surface of your monitor. It makes your eyes hurt when you look at it, and when you try to close your eyes or turn your head away the shapes and lines are imprinted on your eyeballs like you just looked at a lightbulb or a bright neon sign for too long. Greasy purple-black light is shining out from inside your rig.

As you stare, the code reaches the edges of the screen - and then _passes through them._

It spills over the borders of the monitor, etching the characters and symbols first into the plastic and then into the metal of your desk and - and _the air_ **_around_ ** _the desk_ , slowly turning the atmosphere in your room darker and darker as the screen flickers with that awful, eyesore-inducing dark glow.

You snap out of it and run forward, swinging your foot forward at the tower. Your sneaker smashes into the case. You stub your toes and stumble backwards, hopping on one foot and clenching your teeth. Code slithers over the surface of the casing, hard as a rock.

You grab the battle-axe leaning against the wall by your bed. You were going to buff it up a little before the next LARP, put some cool designs on it (or get one of the loser art students to put them on for you, but they’ll be your ideas) but now you grip it in two hands and slam it down on the computer.  
  
Nothing happens.

In the mass of insane code you see words stand out. It’s TT. She’s still sending you messages.

You turn and run. The door to your room won’t open. You start hacking at it with your axe. One, two, three times-

That doesn’t work either. The door is impervious, invincible, just like the computer. You scream but there’s no response from the other people in your building.

You feel a rush of air from behind you. Your ears pop like you just got on a plane. You turn to look.

The sickening patterns and numerals flowing out of your computer have formed a ring, in the air. Something takes shape in its center, a flickering outline slowly forming out of nothingness. The code traces it in the air, the shape of a feminine figure that then starts to fill in with substance.

It’s like the air is a glass, and someone, somewhere is pouring ink into it. It fills, from the inside out, translating into existence in line after line of impossible code typing itself into empty space and then executing, conjured into existence by what you’re finally realizing wasn’t a computer program at all.

It steps through into your room. It’s shiny and wet-looking, but somehow that same surface also looks like cloth, like it was wearing a coat. No, not a coat, a _robe_ \- whatever makes it up expands and flares out slightly on the lower half of its body, eventually pooling around its feet in what looks like a literal pool of slippery wet darkness. It looks like that lady, the mom from the Addams Family, you think, bizarrely.

It - she - takes another step towards you, then another. It looks like Morticia Addams In more ways than one, you realize, at it sways its shapely hips with each stride. It trails the pool of ink at its feet behind it like a gown. There are two bright purple eyes set into the space of its head, centering something a lot _like_ a female face.

You swallow. There’s a sort of fucked-up perverse attractiveness to her - it. Behind her the portal ring dissolves, leaving the freaky-ass awful hellcode just crawling all over your computer like a swarm of evil spiders. No, not like spiders. Spiders are cool. This is definitely _not_ cool.

“Hello, AG.” she says. “Or should I say, Vriska?”

Your eyes widen. Even if what she said hadn’t clued you in, you somehow know _exactly_ who it is. That smug fucking smile on her face, the way it’s _almost_ expressionless and blank except for this tiny little quirk at the edges of the mouth that lets you know for eight hundred percent sure that she thinks she’s better than you. That self-satisfied fucking voice, like everything’s going exactly according to plan. You’d recognize her from a mile away. “TT?!”

“Oh, of course. I forgot. That’s the only name you’ve ever known me by.”

“What - what the fuck _are_ you?” You clench your fists, forcing yourself not to shake.

“Me?” She chuckles. Something about it makes the space in between your legs clench and tingle. “I’m the end of the universe. She is the Alpha, and I am the Omega. There is a space and a time father away in the future than your brain can effectively comprehend, where existence has expanded almost to insubstantiality, reality stretched so thin across the framework of space-time that it can hardly be called ‘real’ at all, and the endless Void has all but reclaimed it. And when the moment of terminus at last arrives, I will sweep my hand from left to right, once, and blow it away o-”

“I mean, like, _who_ are you?”

“Oh.” She frowns. “You need to define your terms, Vriska. Maybe we can work on that. In the meantime, you may call me Rose.”

She turns to face your compromised rig again, and starts typing rapidly on the keyboard. “What are you doing?” you demand. “Why are you fucking up my computer and calling yourself into my room?”

“Well, I’d just as soon not bother, to tell you the truth. But, my darling has taken quite a fancy to you. It’s kind of adorable.”

“Your darli- GA??”

“As I said. She likes bad girls. And you are an extremely bad girl. You’re an even badder girl than I was.”  
  
“...thanks?” You aren’t sure how to take that.  
  
“You know, I can’t actually decide if I meant that as a compliment or not. Feel free to take it as one if you like. The world is what you make of it, and all.”

You are starting to get angry enough to be angrier than you are freaked out. “So, what, GA has a crush on me or something so you’re locking me in my room and turning my computer into a mystic portal?”  
  
“Yes, that about sums it up. She really is taken with you, and I never could refuse her anything when it caught her eye.”

“It?!” You’re yelling now. You have HAD it with this pompous eldritch nega-bitch!! “This is me you’re talking about, you know?? A human fucking being? Did anyone ever think of asking me if I _wanted_ a fling with your weird girlfriend?”

“We did,” she says, calmly. The code is flowing over your computer into different shapes and configurations. “Three times, as a matter of fact.”  
  
“What? You never-”  
  
“I asked you once. Then she asked you once. Then I asked you a third time, and you said yes to all three. Three is an auspicious number, you know.”

You frantically try to think back through the conversation - you remember GA saying something about a ‘long relationship’, and you said yes to that, and there was something else, about TT - Rose - asking you if you wanted them to, like, cut loose on you, and … show you no mercy…

_Shit._

“That’s bullshit,” you snap. “I still don’t want to do anything with … whatever you two are,”

“I told you. I am the end of the universe. And she’s the beginning.”

“WHAT _EVER!!!_ Anyway you never tricked me into saying yes a third time, and even if you did that wouldn’t mean anything!” You grip your replica battle-axe and hold it up a little threateningly.  
  
She slows down at her typing and clicking away, and looks over her shoulder, just enough that you can see one gleaming eye analyzing you. You shiver, involuntarily. “I did, actually.”  
  
“What??”  
  
“Let me see, what was it it said…” She taps at the mouse and a window comes up on the monitor. “Mmmm… ‘...user assents to licensor(s)’s entrance to their place of residence… as part of acceptance of agreement user waives the protection of any and all wards, magelocks, and extra-continuual seals, past, future, and/or present, up to and beyond the duration of their natural lifespan… user agrees to the the temporal and spatial severing of their immediate place of residence for as long as licensor(s) deem necessary, a demesne will be created for this purpose for the duration of this period…”

She smiles that bright smile at you as nausea starts to coil around your guts. “It was all in the end user license agreement.”

“You-” Your mouth hangs open like an idiot. “But - no one reads those!!!”  
  
She turns so you can see her entire face, grinning a shit-eating, unmistakably sinister grin. “ _Exactly._ ”

She turns back to your computer, and something takes hold of you. Anger boils inside you, the way it’s only done a handful of times in your life, where it burns so hot and furious that it turns cold and drenches your brain in ice water, and suddenly your thoughts run cold and distant and absolutely pure, your rage so intense and uncontrollable that it takes over your mind, and as you have before, you just sit back, dazed, and watch your body move.

Your hands lift the SCA axe, and you move forward, raising it over your head, and bring it down on the Mommy Addams shadow-outline.

Something moves, a whip-flash of black and violet, and you stop dead before the axe can make contact.

Rose sighs, and turns to face you.

Reaching out from the mass of inky shadow that surrounds her on the floor, as if it was coming out from under a skirt, is a tentacle. It’s long and and black, not thin but not exactly fat either, and surrounded along its length by a fluctuating aura of pink, so that you can’t quite tell from looking whether it’s a solid thing or not.

But it feels pretty fucking solid where it’s wrapped around your waist. It pulls you back, squeezing you a little too tightly, shocking you out of the anger-induced rush of adrenaline and decisiveness. Your axe thuds onto the floorboards. “It’s amazing, really,” Rose says, finally turning all the way towards you. “The Devil himself couldn’t have devised a better way of separating humans from their liberty and agency.” A second tentacle worms its way smoothly out from under her nonexistent shadowy skirt. “It’s a complete contract, consent and agreement spelled out as clearly and technically as I could possibly word it, with the ‘accept’ button acting as an implicit understanding in the conceptual structure of the digital construct that the user has understood it.” The second shadowy limb tries to wind itself around your torso and restrain your arms - you lash out, kicking and swinging your fists. “And nobody. Fucking. Reads them. It’s _incredible._ ” More tendrils emerge and snap forward, grabbing you by the wrists and pinning your arms to your sides so that the first tentacle can fully wrap itself around you, then a second time, binding you completely. “There are rules, you know. We aren’t allowed to just interfere with your lives willy-nilly. You have to invite us. Our past and future incarnations were starting to lose hope until things like EULAs became commonplace.”

“Past - past and future?” you sputter, trying very hard not to panic. Rose is putting the finishing touches on whatever she’s doing to your computer. “So - so all that stuff about past and future yous and GA, in the chat-”  
  
She nods. “Mhm. We did tell you that that particular client was the only way for us to connect to the internet, and it’s quite true. Only that specific construct permitted us to interact with people online from the instant after the Big Bang and from the moment of the universe’s final breath.”

She presses Enter. The shifting impossible code runes start to reconfigure themselves again and form into another gateway. There are other colors mixed in this time - soft green and pure, glittering white.

“I thought you lived in Alabama,” you mumble, stupidly, as you stare into the heart of this second portal.

“God, no.” A little shiver runs through the tentacles. “The last moments of this continuum before its dissolution into infinite nothingness is _much_ more hospitable than Alabama.”

This one opens like a supernova blowing up. There’s a tiny little point of light, at the very center of the gateway (you’re sure that if you measured it it would be mathematically exact) that shines for a moment, and then _blows wide_ , stars and planets and galaxies and what looks like every planetarium show you’ve ever seen mixed up in a juicer expanding to fill in another feminine form, every pixel of it being replaced by a star until the figure is colored in completely white. “But it doesn’t have her,” she says. “So we reach out, into my past and into her future… until we find people like you, who let us into your lives, into your times… and let us be together again.”

She’s shaped like a person, just like Rose, but the longer you look at her, the less like a person she seems. Her body of starlight emanates a gentle green glow. Her blank white face only has the vaguest hints at eyes. She has horns. She has too many arms - one pair too many - and they’re spindly and thin, with long, sharp-looking claws at the ends. (Her fingers, again, look a little bit like a spider’s legs. You try really hard not to react to the image you can’t stop from flashing through your head, of those fingers crawling up across your skin, caressing you.)

“Kanaya,” Rose says, striding calmly around into your field of vision, the tentacle holding you somehow not adjusting its grip at all. More tentacles coil around the darkness at her feet. “How long has it been? An eternity?”  
  
“Several, perhaps,” the other one says. Her voice is a perfectly tuned instrument. She and Rose reach out and all of her arms clasp tight around Rose’s back. Rose’s arms wrap around her in turn (so do all her excess tentacles, too) and… they… start making out.

Even in your mounting terror and fury you roll your eyes. They _really_ can’t turn it off for like a minute, can they? You’re not even sure what Rose is kissing, there’s no mouth there.

...is there?

It’s horrifying, watching these two nightmares from beyond time sucking each other’s faces, enveloping one another like giant squid with their way too many limbs, but … it’s so passionate. So powerful. You’ve never seen any two people that into one another. _You’ve_ sure never felt like that about someone. The tentacle trapping you shudders and ripples as Rose kisses GA - Kanaya - and you really, _really_ want to find the awful, unnatural physicality of it as it squeezes and massages your body disgusting - but you can’t. Not quite.

The white figure finally disentangles herself from her freaky eldritch girlfriend. “Hello, Vriska,” she says. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you the first time.” She steps towards you, holding out one of those slender hands. She strokes your face with the tip of one smooth claw. A line of goosebumps stand up in its wake and you quiver, torn violently between poisonous, hateful fear and anxiety and how much you want her to do that again, how much you want her to touch you all over with those sharp hands.

“It’s not mutual,” you snap, sounding a lot braver than you feel.

“I’m aware that this is the first time that we meet, corpus to corpus, from _your_ point of view,” she tilts her featureless white head at you. “But even if this _is_ our first temporospatially synced encounter, and you thus lack the familiarity accumulated by many unquantifiable-by-human-means spans of time spent together that the Vriskas my antecedent selves have experience with, there’s no need to be be concerned. Other manifestations of me further along in this timeline have assured me that we have many enjoyable hours to spend together.”

She slides two of her hands around your waist, in between the coils, while the other two frame your face, running over your skin. The sharpness of them is terrifying and makes you try to flinch back, but at the same time it’s … tender. Soft. You’ve never been touched like this, by anyone. You tremble and try to pull back, your arms still struggling ineffectually against the tendril gripping you, but you can’t get away far enough (and you’re almost glad you don’t have the choice, because you don’t want to find out whether you would or not).

She caresses your face, lovingly tracing your features. A few of those claws run through your hair and across your scalp, sending a tiny little lightning bolt down your spine, and then leans in for a kiss.  
  
You make a muffled noise into her face. There sure as hell _is_ a mouth there, no doubt about that, some kind of cavity opening where her lips should be. It attaches to your lips like a suction cup, and you feel something that is _almost_ a tongue inside, poking at your mouth, looking for access.

The tentacle is pulsating around you again, unnatural eldritch muscle expanding and contracting, massaging your body. You feel a tingle and something cool and wet starts to work its way around your ankles and up the legs of your pants. You kick out again, you don’t even know what you’re fighting anymore or why you’re fighting it but you know you can’t give in, whatever happens, whoever it is, you can’t ever give up, you can’t ever let anyone else win, even if you don’t even know that what’s happening is a contest. One at a time more tendrils glance off your flailing feet and then grab hold of them, tightening around your ankles and holding you still. “Shhh-sh-shh,” Rose murmurs from behind you. Her chilly lips touch the edge of your ear. “That’s enough. Just listen to Kanaya.” The tentacles pull your legs apart a little and start coiling around them, slowly wrapping them up and easing towards your hips and crotch. They keep loosening and contracting, applying that massaging action to more and more of your body, you can even feel it through your jeans.

Kanaya gives you a tiny bit of space, enough that her white void of a face just fills up your vision instead of blocking it out completely. You keep trying to kick, fighting the tentacles for every inch even as your range of motion gets smaller and smaller.

Kanaya opens her eyes.

They were just little dark slits in the white mask before (if slits that somehow conveyed a full range of emotion) but now they actually open all the way, and … you see…

You see … everything.

Her eyes are a sky full of stars, sparkling, endlessly swirling. You stare in amazement, and it seems like they expand, grow, fill your vision, infinite black and glittering white points stretching off into nothing, spreading outward. You start to lose sight of the room, what you can see at the edges of your view starts to fuzz and blur, as the beautiful endlessness of space reaches out to envelop you...

Somewhere in the blackness, there’s a voice. It echoes like in a cave or a stadium, bouncing around on the inside of your head. “ _It’s alright,_ ” It’s Kanaya’s voice. It’s soft. Comforting. You feel better. “ _Relax._ ” You can already feel the tension seeping out of your muscles. Kanaya will take care of you. “ _You don’t have to rebel anymore._ ” Your thrashing legs are slowing. What would be the point, anyway? They’re stronger than you. They’ve already won. " _You’ll be safe with me._ ”

“Safe … with you,” you hear your own voice say, dully. You can finally rest. You can finally … stop…

That… doesn’t sound right...

You’ve never been safe in your life. _Especially_ not with anyone who said they’d take care of you.

Before the starfield can totally swallow you you try to blink. It feels like someone is holding on your eyelids with fucking ropes but you dig in your heels and _squint_ , it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done, how many fucking times have you blinked in your life and this is harder than anything - but your eyes shut for a moment.

When you open them again some of the enthralling blackness has gone, shrunk back towards the center of your vision, towards the center of Kanaya’s eyes. You blink again. More of it goes. You blink again. There’s a room behind her. Your room.

You blink again, and you shake your head. This time, you keep your eyes closed. The stars keep glimmering, stamped on the inside of your eyelids, alluring and tugging on your mind, but they’re fading already. You hear Kanaya sigh, all disappointed. “Vriska…”

You start to kick again. Rose’s tentacles are completely wrapped around your legs and snaking up to the belt of your jeans but you start thrashing around again- the tendrils are slick, if you shove hard enough maybe you can slip one arm out and get in one good punch or elbow-

“Please, open your eyes. You’re making this so much harder than it needs to be,” Kanaya says.

“Fuck you,” you snarl.

“Vriska, please…” she murmurs. “I understand. You’re _miserable._ You live your whole life as if it’s a war.” You feel those claws run over your face again, tenderly. You want to lean into it _so badly_ , you want to have whatever is on the other side of that feeling, but you can’t, because if you stop then what was any of it for-

“That’s because it is,” you spit the words at her, “You either win, or lose, and I’m a winner, I always win,” You shake your head, keeping your eyes welded shut.

“But you don’t have to,” That sucker-mouth attaches below your hairline as she kisses your forehead. “Please. Open your eyes. You’ll be happier.”

“Only _idiots_ are happy,” you snap, and give one last ferocious wrench of your shoulder - and then you feel one of the tendrils slide around your neck.

“Open your eyes,” Rose says.

“FUCK OFF!!!!!!!!”

She sighs this stupid smug little sigh and then the tentacles around your legs start yanking your pants down.

You keep thrashing, and you actually get in a few kicks at their ankles as your jeans slip off but then another tentacle is curling in around your waist and slithering down to hold your legs together, and then-

You shriek, mostly from surprise, as the tip of one gets into your underwear.

It’s chilly and slimy but it starts rubbing at the entrance to your pussy and hot buzzing warmth shoots up from between your legs. Before you can do anything it finds your lower lips and then -slides in between them, and then it _curls_ . A whine gets out of you before you can stop it and then it keeps going, sliding in and out and rippling inside you with this unstoppable rhythm that sets your clit on _fire,_ you’re writhing again but this time it’s just from pleasure, not any desire to escape, and you _moan,_ loud and wanton and your eyes fly open -  
  
Kanaya’s are right in front of you again and then you’re falling, falling into them, you try to crank your eyes shut again but then a pair of cool hands are on either side of your head, fingers placing themselves over your eyelids and holding them open and you fall, and fall, and fall…

The starry dark spreads and spreads, and this time you can’t get away. It reaches the edges of your vision and consumes you, and all that’s left of the world is Kanaya’s face and eyes and the endless, soothing expanse of stars, the infinite blackness that seeps into your mind. You feel like this is a bad thing for some reason, but before you can really remember why, the reason is slipping away into the black, too.

“ _That’s good, Vriska,_ ” Kanaya’s voice says. It rings in your brain like a bell, reflecting off the walls of your braincase until there’s no room for you to think about anything. Your head is filling up with Kanaya’s voice, filling up with black. Filling up with stars. “ _You’re safe now. You’re safe with me. You can relax. You can rest._ ” Your struggles slow, and then stop, but Rose’s tendril doesn’t stop fucking you, so your hips continue to shake and quiver even as the rest of you hangs limp in her grasp. Your clit is a fixed point in the black, the brightest star of all, like the X on a treasure map, flaring and strobing brighter with each movement of the tentacle in your slit. The shocks of hot pleasure run through you, shaking more and more of the thoughts out of your head, making more room for Kanaya. “ _Remember that you’re safe with me._ ”

“Safe. With you.” your mouth makes the words, because it’s true. You feel like maybe, somewhere in the depthless void of stars, there’s an idea that it’s not supposed to be true, but you can’t think of anything else it could be.

“ _Do you want to feel like this, all the time?_ ” her voice asks. “ _The way Rose is making you feel? Do you want to be safe with me forever?_ ”

Your head bobs up and down, distantly. It’s like you’re transmitting the commands to your muscles from a billion light-years away. “Yeah,” you say. Your tongue feels thick and heavy in your mouth. “Safe with you. Forever,”

“ _Good. I want you to be safe, and happy, and full of bliss. Don’t you?_ ”

“Full of… bliss…” You feel pretty full of bliss right now. Full of something. You think the tentacle is leaving something inside you.

“ _Good. Good girl, Vriska.”_ Your heart does an unfamiliar, happy little throb. Kanaya’s happy with you. She thinks you’re a good girl. No one’s ever thought you were a good girl before. One set of claws is petting your hair. “ _You’re a very good girl. You’re_ my _good girl._ ”

Yes, you think, as that idea rebounds inside your mind, getting stronger with each bounce, stronger with each burst of light and heat from the star that is your clit. You like that idea. You like the idea of being Kanaya’s. You’ve only ever belonged to yourself before, and that was so _tiring_ , you’re _so_ tired. You never realized just how tired you were, how exhausting it was, doing everything yourself, all the time, only being able to count on yourself. This is so much nicer. So much easier and simpler to not think, to just let Kanaya’s words reverberate inside you, and let that be your thinking.

The other set of talons is pushing up the hem of your shirt and slipping underneath, making you quiver at the feeling of them roaming across your chest and then settling on your breasts. Your nipples are hard. They prickle as she touches them. Your pussy clenches around the girth of the tentacle.

 “ _Then come deeper for me,_ ” she says, and her eyes pull you in, down into the depths of the black hole, the empty void that absorbs your worries and your fears and your thoughts. Your body feels like it’s floating in space.

Your feet are moving. You’re not wearing panties anymore. That happened at some point. You feel like you should be concerned about that. Maybe. Probably not. You don’t know why you would be. You don’t really know much of anything. It’s all gone, or it will be soon. It’s all been sucked away into the black hole of Kanaya’s eyes, like water going down the drain.

The world goes out from under you, and you feel like you’re falling, and then there are only stars.

  


* * *

  


You’re lying down. Everything around you feels soft and cool. Your head is in Kanaya’s lap. She’s stroking your face and combing her talons through your hair, making a sound that no human mouth could ever make. It’s like music, almost, from a bell or a chime or something. It’s soothing. Reassuring.

That, in itself, is terrifying. You’ve only ever been held like this, gently and sweetly, by someone who was lying to you, who was lulling you into a false sense of security so that she could fuck you later, just like everyone else who’s ever pretended to be decent.

You throw yourself up, breathing hard, looking around wildly.

Kanaya is hovering over you, sitting on your bed. Rose is leaning back in your desk chair, like it’s hers and not yours, with her hands folded in her lap and a few thin little tentacles emerging from under her ‘skirt’, tapping away at your keyboard and fiddling with the weird eye-straining characters floating around it.

You sneer at her. She looks back at you, totally calm. You want to put a fist through that inky lack of a nose.

“It’s alright, Vriska.” Kanaya murmurs. Peace of mind seeps into you like poison at the sound of her voice.

“What’s going on?” You try to sound tough and demanding. “What _are_ you?

“I told you.” Rose is sitting in your desk chair, smirking, a line of perfect white opening where a mouth should be in that shadowy mass of a face, like something ripping at the seams. “We exist at the end of time, and at the beginning. I came here from the space immediately before the end of everything, and Kanaya is from the birth of existence. She raised the curtain on the stage of this universe, and at the end, eons into your future, but only a few seconds from my present, I will lower it,”

“Oh, Rose. Dear,” Kanaya interrupts, sounding really tired. “Have you been deforming Vriska’s auricular organs with your theatrics again?” Her little eye-holes crinkle up at you like she’s telling you a big secret at a goddamn slumber party. “Please don’t let her convince you that we’re in some way vital to the life cycle of our reality. That’s a terrible overstatement. It is true that I exist, originally, at the genesis point of this universe, and Rose exists at its conclusion, but neither of us are responsible for these events. We simply resonate powerfully, and are essentially synonymous with, the forces that _do_ drive-”

You get up. Your legs shake and you feel sore and sensitive between them. It looks like night-time, judging by the cool, pale light coming in through your window, but also … not.

You walk over and look through the window.

It isn’t moonlight. There’s no moon. There’s no sky for a moon to be in, no clouds. There’s no ground. No trees. There are just stars.

“Where am I?” you say out loud, feeling a little sick. You grab onto the feeling of wanting to throw up, because it’s not part of the serenity trying to take you over like a carjacking. “Where did you take me?”

“Nowhere,” Rose says, lazily. “You’re still in your room. We’ve just tucked it away for a while, so that Kanaya can have some private time with you.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, fuckface.”

“What would you prefer I say? Would you like me to try getting your simplistic linear brain to understand the intricacies of multithreaded spatial analogues?”

“To be entirely fair,” Kanaya’s barely-a-face looks amused, somehow. “Our perceptions are linear, too. It’s just that we linearly experience a nonlinear series of events.”

“Wait.” You squint. “Multithreading? What, did you make my room able to run on a bunch of different programs at once?”

They’re both quiet for a few seconds.

“That’s … not entirely inaccurate, no.” Rose’s nasty little eyes squint at you. You look right back at her and don’t blink, no matter _how_ freaked you are.

You scowl. “So why does your weird magic from outside time or whatever work on the same principles as computer code?”

“What makes you think it’s not the other way around?”

You stare for a moment, as the implications of that filter through your brain.

“When properly configured, computers have made manipulating the continuual structure easier than ever. At earlier points on this timeline I have to use _magic_ and _incantations_ and suchlike. It’s annoying as _hell_. But, from around this era onward it’s possible to create computer programs that basically only require you to do it correctly once, and then it’ll cast the spell perfectly every time you execute it. Which is what you installed on your computer, by the way.”

“...and that spell does what. Summons you from the end of time?”

“And the beginning, yes.”

“Why?!” you explode. “Why are you going to all this trouble, why did you steal my room, and multithread it, and - and,”

“I told you before.”

“To be together,” Kanaya says. She walks over to the chair and takes Rose’s hand. “All of existence is between us, so we need people like you to call us closer together in time.” she presses the spot where that sea-creature-mouth thing is to the side of Rose’s head. “...also, we get bored.”

“BORED?!”

“Can you blame us?” Rose puts where her feet should be up on the desk - _your_ fucking desk - and reaches up to cup her girlfriend’s cheek. A few tentacles dangle out from the bottom of her skirt. “Where I come from, the universe has expanded to such an extent that I am one of very few things remaining that even has a coherent physical form - and the others are terrible conversationalists.”

“And at my time of origin, existence has only just begun milliseconds ago to spread out from the singular point in which it was all contained at the conception of creation. Decent conversation has not yet been created, let alone entities capable of decent conversation.”

“Wait a second,” you growl, “you said ‘together _again_ ’. If you’re from the opposite ends of time, how did you get together in the first place?”

They look at you for a moment, and then Kanaya says, “We don’t know.”

“Our first memories are of existing in our respective moments of instantiation.” Rose strokes Kanaya’s face with a purple-black thumb. “But we’re absolutely certain that we were once together. I believe that we remember one another from the time before time, when all the universe was a single speck, and all was one, and we long desperately to be united again.” They turn to gaze into each other’s nightmare eyes, smiling soulfully at one another.

“ _Uggggggggh_ ,” you claw at your eyes, “I cannot _believe_ that you two are _exactly the fucking same_ in person! I guess that’s how I know it’s you and this isn’t some kind of trick! You literally cannot stop flapping your gums about how much you Love One Another and how you’re Destined To Be Together for like a _minute_ , you even managed to take all this shit about these big secrets of reality and how the universe was created and make _that_ about you and your Beautiful Cosmic Gay Romance, _god_ I’m sick of it,”

Rose looks at you for a moment, her bright little eyes narrowed, and then more tentacles start to emerge from beneath her weird hanging skirt of a lower body. You still haven’t seen any feet.

Kanaya strokes Rose’s face with one set of talons. “Don’t be too hard on her, dear. She can’t help her limited perspective. Up to this point she has only been able to live her life in order, one moment at a time.”

“Ugh.” Rose folds her arms. “How does she _stand_ it? How do any of them?”

“I don’t know, dear. But it’s okay. We’ll teach her.”

“Now hold on,” you raise your hands. “I never said I was going to go along with this. I didn’t ask for this shit.”

“You clicked ‘accept’ on the license agreement,” Rose smiles obnoxiously at you. “So for all intents and purposes, you did.”

“Fuck that. I’m out. I’d love to know more about all these big secrets but not if it means having to deal with you for the rest of my life.”

“Oh, don’t worry. You’ll understand once we’re done. You can’t leave, anyhow.”

“Fucking watch me.” You turn and head for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going to go?” Rose calls after you.

“Anywhere’s good as long as it’s away from you!” You flip her off over your shoulder as you go.

“Vriska. Please.”

Your jaw clenches at the uncontrollable wash of relaxation and peace that breaks over you as she speaks. Your traitorous backstabbing mouth tries to smile.

“Vriska. You always insist on making everything _so_ difficult, for everyone else and for yourself. Just this once, why don’t you just make it easy? _Trust me._ ”

You feel phantom claws stroking over your face, showering you with love and tenderness and warmth. You feel your pussy throbbing as it remembers how good what happened before felt. You blink, and you see stars on the inside of your eyelids, twinkling and soothing.

 _No,_ you think, and take a step forward. “I’ve never trusted anyone and I’m not about to start now.”

“I know, believe me. Your life has been awfully cruel to you, and I-”  
  
“WHAT DO YOU KNOW????????” you scream, turning to face her, teeth bared, “YOU THINK BECAUSE YOU’RE-”

Her eyes are open again. Bottomless. Endless. Full of stars. Pulling you in. “Be… because you’re…” You start to follow the movements of the constellations and the swirling of the black hole. It’s mesmerizing.

“No - no,” you fall backwards onto your ass, throwing your hands up to block out the sight, furiously blinking the twinkling lights out of your eyes, and you scramble backwards across the floor. You reach out for the doorknob.

A tentacle whiplashes around your leg. You fall onto your face. “ _Shit-_ ” You try to yell. You try to grab onto something but there’s nothing in reach. Your fingers just slide over the rug, and then another two come over - one slides in under your armpits and wraps around your chest and the other grabs you by the arm. They start to drag you backwards. “Shit, shit, _shit_ ,”

“No worries,” Rose says, “We understand how intractable you can be. Just remember that this is for your own good,”

You thrash and kick but the tendrils entangle you, and then Kanaya’s numerous arms are wrapping around your torso, hugging you tight and sweet. You try to struggle, but it feels _so_ good, you want _so bad_ to just accept it and be safe, and let her love you and protect you and cradle you but you _can’t_ -

A tentacle slithers up in front of you, and pokes you in the face.

It pushes at the outside of your mouth. It’s slick and wet and it leaves some kind of slime on your skin. It smells sweet, way _too_ sweet, like shitty supermarket brand soda. It tries to get in but you clench your teeth and make a wall - but then Kanaya’s hands are sliding up your neck and under your shirt and tracing those claws across your skin and over your nipples and you can’t not gasp-

It goes into your mouth. It’s like a chunk of rubber. It gives way a little bit when you bite down, but only a little bit. The sickly sweetness fills your mouth. You gag but nothing happens. It won’t move. All that happens is that some of that sweet stuff goes down your throat.

It’s good. It’s _so_ good, and unlike every other good thing you’ve been offered today, you can’t resist it.

You start to suck on the tentacle, gulping the too-sweet slime down, as much and as fast as you can. There’s not enough of it, it leaks into your mouth just a few drops at a time, you need more, you need… you need… you need…

You need. You just … need. Your brain is fogging over. Where before it was emptying, draining into Kanaya’s singularity-eyes, now it’s filling up, filling up with ink, filling up with pink and purple, filling up with _need_. A tingly sensitivity is starting to spread through your whole body, from your core out to the ends of your limbs. The more of it you suck down, the thicker the fog gets, the harder it gets to care about anything else, about where you are or what’s happening to you or the end of the universe. You were worried about those things before. Now all you care about is getting to the end of each suck so you can start the next one.

“That’s good.” Rose is murmuring. “Much more agreeable now, aren’t you.” She pets your head like you’re a dog. You should care. You should be angry. You aren’t.

The tentacle pops out of your mouth as they sit you down on the bed. A little bit of sweet slime drips from your open mouth. Your skin feels amazing all over, itching and prickling, begging to be touched. Your pussy feels _so empty._

Kanaya is lifting you onto her lap. Her eyes are huge and go on forever. You stare into them, your eyelids heavy. The spiraling galaxies pull you like magnets, around and around and around…

“ _Strip for me,_ ” Kanaya says, her voice sinking into the fog, soaking into your brain. Your hands go down and lift your shirt. The stars continue to shine in your eyes as it covers your head for a moment.

Tentacles are wrapping around both of you from behind, thinner ones now with more dexterity. One creeps up between your thighs. Another one starts slipping between your ass-cheeks. Kanaya’s claws are running up your spine and along your neck and under your ass. It feels _so_ good. Everything feels so good. Kanaya reaches down and nudges your legs open and you eagerly spread them wide.

“ _I told you,_ ” she murmurs, her voice sounds like music, “ _you’ll be happy,_ ”

“Happy,” you mumble, terrifying joy dispersing through you. The tentacle in front starts pushing into your snatch.

“ _Safe,_ ” she whispers, and it bends in your pussy, lighting your extra-sensitive nerves on fire.

“S-safe,” you moan, absolute peace flowing into you along with the amazing feeling of the thing rippling in your pussy.

 _“Full of bliss…_ ”

“Full… of… blih-ih-ihssss…” You’re losing control of your voice as the other one pushes into your asshole. Your entire body is loose and relaxed, and it’s thin and slick, it slides in effortlessly and then starts to pump in and out. You start to rock back and forth on top of the two tentacles fucking you, shuddering on Kanaya’s lap, never losing sight of her beautiful bottomless eyes. There’s a giant, dopey smile on your face, you’re so full of joy.

More tentacles slither across the tops of your breasts, tickling them with little feelers and making you whine with excitement. They hover for a moment - and then attach themselves to your nipples like suction cups. You _scream,_ your eyes roll back in your head and your vision blurs over, and then you’re empty, there’s nothing left of you but the pleasure and the tentacles inside you and sucking at your boobs and the spinning void of Kanaya’s gaze, pulling you down into it. “ _Yes, Vriska,_ ” she trills, “ _Just like that. Be happy. Be safe. Relax. Relax. Relaax…_ ”  
  


* * *

  
  


You dream of stars, and purple and green.

You open your eyes. You’re staring up at your ceiling fan.

Your mouth is dry. You lick your lips. They taste like stale bubble gum. It just makes you long for the real taste, to have it in your mouth again.

You’re naked and sticky. You feel sore between your legs. You wince as you try to get up. You’re going to be walking funny for a week, you think. Your room is full of weird smells, like seafood, and the smell of an electrical short or a burnt-out lightbulb.

You look out the window. The sun is coming up. You kind of wish it was night, still. Then you’d be able to see the stars, and know that everything is okay, that you’re safe, and happy, and full of bliss.

A ping comes from your computer. Sipping from a bottle of blue Gatorade you sit down in your chair and bring up the crappy chat client they made you install.  
  


\-- grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began pestering arachnidsGrip [AG] at 8:21 --

GA: Are You Awake

GA: Obviously If You Are Not Yet I Will Understand Considering How Exhausted You Must Be

GA: Whether It Is From The Sheer Amount Of Additional Horizontal Space That Has Been Added To Your Mind By How Much It Was Just Broadened Or From The Amount Of Orgasms That I Admit Even I Lost Count Of After A While

GA: Or Both

GA: I Feel Both Is Probably The Case

AG: What did you do to me?

GA: We Expanded Your Perceptions

GA: I Began The Process Of Rescuing You From The Torture Chamber That Is Your Life

AG: It’s not that 8ad.

GA: Yes It Definitely Is

GA: As Someone With An Outside Perspective Take It From Me

AG: Did you come?

AG: When we did it, I mean.

GA: I Do Not Experience What You Would Recognize As A Sexual Climax

GA: I Lack The Biology As Well As The Reproductive Drive Necessary For Such A Reaction

GA: However There Are Certain Analogous Sensations That I Derive From Intimacy With Those I Care For

AG: Okay.

AG: Did you, uh, derive certain analogous sens8ions, when we did it?

GA: Yes

GA: Like Twenty Times Oh My God

GA: I Knew I Was Right About You Vriska

GA: You Are An Exquisite Specimen

GA: I Am Going To Enjoy Discovering Each And Every Fascinating Iota Of Your Being

AG: Is that going to involve doing what we did last night?

GA: As Often As Possible Yes  
  


You shudder uncontrollably, partly out of fear, and uncertainty at what the future holds - but mostly out of horniness, need. Your aching, sensitive pussy pangs and you squeeze your legs together a little.  
  


AG: When can we do it again?

GA: Would You Like To Do A Crawl

GA: I Think It Will Be Sufficiently Challenging As To Invigorate Someone Of Your Temperament If You Are Still Feeling Sluggish

AG: Really? You’re still talking a8out making games?

GA: I Assure You Now That We Can Leverage The Full Suite of Creative Tools Available To Us You Will Be Compelled By The Results

AG: Yeah. Okay. You know what? Hit me with your 8est fucking shot.  
  


The SGATE application flashes in your taskbar. You see a flash of purple out of the corner of your eye, from inside the case of your computer. Little trails of eldritch code crawl through the air. A window pops up on your screen.

**Vriska: Enter?**

You hit ‘Yes.’

Code leaks out into the air in all directions from your computer, corrupting the air, and it reaches out, until it describes the shape of a gateway.

Your ears _pop_ as it opens. A blast of hot, wet wind hits you in the face. Your nose fills with the smell of salt water.

You see islands, dark stone and thick green jungles, connected by long, long rope bridges and hazardous-looking platforms. The sky is streaked with continents and dotted lines, like a treasure map.  
  


GA: I Suggest You Get Dressed

GA: You Will Want To Bring Swimwear

GA: And A Device Capable Of Running This Client

AG: I 8et this whole thing is just an excuse to see me in a 8ikini.

GA: I Will Neither Confirm Nor Deny That This Was A Factor In The Overall Design Of The Environment  
  


You stare out into the fantastical land for a moment, for appearances, so it looks to them, if they’re watching you, that you have to think about it for a moment. But there was never any doubt in your mind.

You pull on a shirt and shorts over a one-piece covered in spiderweb designs. You refill your Gatorade. Then you pack another one, and some snacks, and grab your phone.

You stop for a moment, and then pick up your battle-axe from where it fell.

There’s only one more thing you need to know.  
  


AG: Will you 8e in there?

GA: Of Course

GA: I Will Be Waiting For You When You Reach The End

AG: ...okay.  
  


You step through, out of your room, and don’t look back.

**Author's Note:**

> Trivia: The hideously garbled really, really long number that appears in the temporal memo message immediately before Rose manifests is essentially current science's rough estimate for how many years away the heat death of the universe is.


End file.
